


Bad Blood

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Dreams vs. Reality, Halloween, M/M, Mystery, Scary, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: Ianto is in a good place in his relationship with Jack. Why then is he having nightmares filled with blood and death, all by Jack's hand? And what happens when they begin to come true?





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

1.

Ianto Jones sighed as he stood up, stretching his back yet again. He was only twenty-five, but sometimes he felt like he was getting too old for Torchwood. He'd spent hours picking up and replacing everything that had fallen out of place in the archives during the Riftquake that had them all out of bed at six o'clock that morning. Coming off a weekend of heavy alien activity (Weevils, space tourists, deadly viruses), he'd been exhausted before he'd even gone to sleep, and the early morning wake up had only made it worse.

Then again, he'd probably pop some pills, grab a few hours of sleep, and carry on. That's what they did, after all.

He was almost done, one last row of shelves to pick up and sort back into place. It was well past time for dinner, but Ianto was determined to finish before grabbing a snack and falling into bed. The archives were a dangerous place, in spite of several safeguards put in place to protect them. The Riftquake had shaken things up quite a bit in the lower levels, and Ianto wanted to be sure nothing had been damaged in a way that might be hazardous. He'd hate to go to bed and have something blow up while he slept.

He picked up a small square device, eerily similar to a Rubik's Cube but without any colors; it was covered instead in smaller squares of black, white, and shades of grey. Ianto half wondered if they were supposed to line up in patterns, but the tag claimed it was a broken weapon, so he rather doubted it worked like a puzzle. He turned it over a few times to see if it had been damaged falling from the shelf, which was when he noticed one of the squares was no longer dark, but a deep, pulsating purple, warm to the touch.

Resisting the impulse to drop it like a live snake, Ianto swore and dashed back into his office, placing it into a containment box and slamming it shut. He leaned over the table, his heart pounding, nervous energy escaping as a short laugh. Which was when Jack sauntered in and found him.

"You all right?" he asked, sounding both concerned and hesitant. Ianto nodded and took a deep breath. It was probably nothing, and the last thing he wanted was for Jack to worry.

"Still cleaning up and might have come across something that was damaged," he said, then stood up straight and met Jack's eyes. "Or activated."

"Did you touch it?" Jack demanded, moving closer and reaching out toward Ianto, as if he wanted to examine him. Since returning from so-called Hell a little over a fortnight ago, Jack had been more protective of the team, and Ianto in particular felt it keenly. It was strange, because he felt as if there must be a reason for Jack's solicitude, only none of them knew what had happened to him. Had he been injured in Hell? Had they? "Are you hurt?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, it didn't do anything but glow a little. I'm fine." Although he wasn't completely certain, knowing his job and the archives as he did. It was entirely possible he'd wake up with a third eye after handling the artifact.

"What was it?" Jack asked, reaching toward the containment box and glancing inside.

"It was labeled as a Xrillian cube," Ianto replied. "Listed as a weapon and catalogued as broken."

Jack frowned, as if trying to place it. He nodded. "Right. I remember that. I think. What happened?"

"My guess is that something was knocked loose when it fell during the quake. One of the squares turned purple." Ianto shrugged and held up his hands. "No webbing, tentacles, or feathers yet," he joked. After staring at him for a moment, Jack nodded and grinned.

"Good to know, although tentacles are not so bad once you get used to—"

"Jack."

"Right. I don't know what a purple button means," he said. "But have Tosh take a look at it tomorrow to be sure it's not—"

"—going to explode," Ianto finished. "My thoughts exactly."

Jack stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist. "Of course it was. That's because great minds think alike—"

"—and every once in a while we pull it off too," Ianto said. Jack scrunched up his face.

"Not what I was going to say," he said. He pulled Ianto flush against him so that their hips pressed against one another. "Now, are you going to keep finishing my sentences or—"

"—finish what I was working on so I can go home?" Ianto replied with a smirk. This time Jack growled and kissed him, long and hard.

"I was going to say stop now and call it a night, but if you're so determined to work, who am I to say otherwise?" He nipped at Ianto's ear, his hands resting comfortably on Ianto's arse.

Ianto thought about the last shelf of items he needed to go through and put away. Then Jack nibbled at his neck, and he decided if nothing had exploded so far, there was a pretty good chance it wouldn't before morning. He could finish after a good night's sleep. He was tired and hungry, though a certain part of his anatomy had definitely perked up with Jack's visit.

"Did you have something else in mind?" Ianto murmured, and he felt Jack smile against his skin.

"Oh, I always have something in mind when it comes to you," Jack purred, then laughed at the utter ridiculousness of it. Ianto joined him, enjoying the rare moment of openness and levity after a week of doubt and uncertainty.

"Actually, I was thinking we could polish off those leftovers in the fridge and then crash here, if you don't mind staying?"

"On that delightfully comfortable slab of rock you call a bed?" Ianto replied, then laughed again as Jack slapped him lightly in the arse. "Of course not. It's late, so I may as well stay here, then I can get an early start on cleaning up these last few artifacts."

"Glad I can help you out with a play to stay," Jack drawled as he dropped his arms and turned to leave. "Ianto Jones, practical to the core. And here I was going to make it worth your while."

Ianto grabbed his jacket, turned off the lights, and followed Jack back toward the main part of the Hub. "If you'd like to come back to mine, you're more than welcome," Ianto replied. "But I suspect by the time we get there I'll be too tired to do anything else but go right to sleep. And snore. Loudly."

Jack's head whipped around, and Ianto grinned as he continued. "So it's _practical_ to stay here. Saves time and energy and leaves us better able to engage in more…recreational activities."

Jack placed a hand over his heart. "I've gone from a matter of convenience to a recreational activity! I must be moving up in the world!"

Ianto stepped close to Jack, palming his crotch as Jack had done to him last month when Rhys Williams had been in the Hub. "I'd say you're definitely up, sir," he murmured.

Jack smiled warmly, running a hand across Ianto's face before kissing him softly on the lips. "Come on," he said. "Let's take some food downstairs and eat in bed."

"Just eat?" asked Ianto.

"I hope not!" Jack laughed. "And if you're not careful with that smart mouth of yours, I might eat right off your stomach!"

Ianto cocked his head and thought about it, then nodded.

"All right," he said, enjoying the look of surprise on Jack's face. He walked past him, went to the refrigerator and plucked out the leftover pizza plus some beers and a slice of cake from somewhere, and headed toward Jack's office.

"Well, come on then," he said. "I couldn't find any whip cream, but I have cake."

Jack grinned, and with a quick sprint caught up as Ianto stepped into the office, looking forward to whatever Jack had in mind.

* * *

Ianto stepped into the shower, too tired to whistle but feeling as if he could. He'd spent the night with Jack, which was becoming a more and more common occurrence, and in spite of two grown men trying to fit themselves into Jack's cramped bed, they'd managed rather well. It had been brilliant, in fact, from their messy but sensuous late night snack, to the amazing sex that followed, to waking up tangled together under the warm blankets. Jack usually woke up before him, but this time he'd been snuffling into Ianto's pillow when Ianto had opened his eyes. After watching for a bit and marveling at the peaceful stillness on Jack's face, Ianto had pressed a kiss to Jack's forehead and decided to shower. He was hoping Jack might hear the water running and join him.

As he washed his hair, he contemplated everything that had happened with Jack recently and wondered once more what was really going on between them. Jack had been back for several months, and since the night he'd returned he'd made clear to Ianto that he wanted things to be different. First a date, then another. Little looks and touches. Nights spent at the Hub, or more often at Ianto's flat. And then a trip to Hell, to save Jack with nothing more than blind faith in the power of forgiveness.

It hadn't been easy, trying to navigate a new course for their relationship. Like the others, Ianto had been hurt by Jack's abrupt disappearance, even if he did understand Jack's need to find the Doctor. And he'd had his doubts about getting involved with Jack again, as much as he'd wanted to. He still did. Before Jack had left, they'd been two lonely people offering nothing more than comfort and distraction through sex. Ianto hadn't kidded himself that Jack thought any more of him than a willing partner, and he hadn't been looking to Jack to provide anything more either.

Now it was more, though how much more he couldn't say. But it was enough that he worried about it, because every day he wondered when Jack would tire of him, of Torchwood, and run back to the stars. He was an immortal man from the 51st century; what Jack was doing there, with them, when he could be doing so much more? Ianto was incredibly glad to have the chance to be with Jack, but he tried not to put too much stock into it, knowing that when Jack left, he could end up more broken than after Lisa had died.

Jack too, had needed time to settle in. The Hub had changed while he'd been gone, as had the team. He'd had to earn everyone's forgiveness, not only Ianto's. And Ianto knew Jack still grappled with his feelings for Gwen, though he wasn't sure what it was exactly between them. He'd struggled with Jack and Gwen's confrontation after Rhys had been shot, questioning everything—his job, his competence, his relationship with Jack. He'd even been close to ending it with Jack, tired of having so many doubts, until the reappearance of Billis Manger.

They'd had their moments during the Tretarri case, though for every time Jack had actually shared something with Ianto, he had also gone distant and held back. And then Idris Hopper had got involved, and Jack had almost seemed to enjoy the awkward sexual tension between the three of them. Bad enough the unresolved situation with Gwen; sometimes Ianto was tired of Jack's former lovers showing up to make a confusing situation even worse.

But something had happened with Manger, something to do with Jack, and Ianto knew that he couldn't leave Jack, not then. And then Jack had been sent to Hell, and Ianto had somehow known that he could bring him back—that he, and only he, could forgive Jack and save him. As if he had done so already, but didn't remember. Jack had come back so attentive and even affectionate that Ianto sensed something terrible must have happened. But it had been nice, in a way, so he hadn't pressed Jack for details. He'd enjoyed the extra attention while it lasted, always waiting for the day it would end.

Instead it seemed as if they had settled into a strange sort of domesticity. It was an unconventional and even kinky domesticity much of the time, but it was more than anything they'd shared before Jack had run off, more than anything Ianto had ever thought possible with a man like Jack. Sometimes he still couldn't believe it, and too often he wondered why—why him?

Thinking about it too much would very likely jinx it all, knowing Jack and his thoughts about such things, so Ianto tried to put it from his mind. Whatever it was, it was good, and Ianto knew in this job and with this man, he needed to enjoy the moments they had, not second guess the past and worry about the future. For them, it was all about the present, and the present was good. He tilted his head back to rinse the soap from his hair, wondering if Jack was awake or if he'd have to wake him up in some creative way, when he heard the door to the ensuite finally open. Ianto grinned to himself.

"About time you got up!" he called to Jack as he watched the other man's silhouette move toward him through the frosted glass of the shower door. "Care to join me?"

The silhouette stopped. Jack didn't reply, and Ianto felt a tiny stirring of doubt. Why wasn't Jack speaking? Was something wrong? He was usually far more talkative in the morning.

"Jack?" he said, quickly rinsing the soap from his body. "Is everything all right?"

There was still no answer, but Jack opened the door and stepped inside. Only he was still wearing his shorts, and the look on his face was alarming. It was too blank, cold and distant, whereas Jack's expressions sometimes said more than his words ever could.

"What's wrong?" Ianto demanded, turning the water off behind him. "What's happened?"

Jack shook his head as he smiled, too big and too forced to be real; it turned Ianto's stomach. He was hit with the sudden need to run, to get as far away from Jack as possible. Something was wrong with Jack, and Ianto was in danger.

Yet before he could say another word or even think of forcing his way out of the shower, Jack's right arm flew out from behind his back, a long knife clenched tightly in his fist. Ianto stared at it, instinctively stepping backward as Jack moved closer, the knife slashing forward so quick and unexpectedly that Ianto didn't even have a chance to try and stop it.

It plunged into his gut, a strong upward thrust into his abdomen with a sickening twist, cutting through skin and muscle. Ianto grunted, his hands clutching at his waist as he felt a sticky wetness pouring from the wound, dripping between his fingers. He stared down at his torso, his hands covered in bright red blood. Then he met Jack's gaze in shocked silence.

Jack wasn't really looking at him. The feral grin was gone, replaced by the blankness once more. His eyes looked more violet than blue, and he raised the knife higher time, plunging it into Ianto's chest, between his ribs, just shy of his heart.

Ianto fell to his knees, surrounded by blood and water as he gasped for breath. Jack stood above him, drops of crimson falling from the tip of the knife to land on the tiles and splatter over his bare feet. Ianto felt his heart break, both literally and figuratively, as Jack gazed down at him and watched him with nothing more than a curious look on his face.

Blood seeped through Ianto's fingers, the pain overwhelming him. He toppled to the ground, gasping as life left him, swirling down the drain in a ghastly red stream. It was not how he thought he'd die. Not by Jack's hand, not now.

"Why?" Ianto whispered.

He thought he heard laughter as his eyes closed and everything faded away into nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I think this is about ready to go, so buckle up! I really wanted to write a scary story for the season, as most of my Halloween stories tend to turn humorous. I hope this is it. If there are small errors here and there, I apologize, but sometimes when I've been looking at something for so long I miss them. I have tried to do my research as well, but do remember I'm not an expert in alien tech, medicine, weaponry, rifts in space and time, or any other number of things that may come up. If you are curious about some of the stories referenced here, you can probably read about them at the Tardis Wiki to get a general idea of the plot. I referenced the novel 'The Twilight Streets' and the audiobook 'In The Shadows'. Enjoy and thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

2.

With a shocked cry, Ianto sat up in bed, unable to breathe due to the tightness in his chest and gasping for air. He felt the pain of the knife twisting in his gut and clutched his stomach before he turned toward the side of the bed and wretched. Holding up shaking hands, he expected to find them covered with blood, only they were clean. Not a drop anywhere. It had all been a dream.

He shuddered, his body shaking uncontrollably as he stared around the dark room. It had seemed so real, felt so real. His heart was racing and his body ached from the thrust of the knife, the fall to the floor. The image of Jack, standing over him with a bloody knife, was stained on the back of his eyelids, and he pressed his palms against his eyes with a sob, trying to erase the nightmarish vision.

And then Jack was there, sliding down the ladder into his bunker and leaping toward the bed, sitting down next to Ianto and saying something, but Ianto couldn't hear him. His ears were buzzing, and when he opened his eyes and looked into Jack's face, he shied away from the other man's touch, shaking his head and trying not to moan out loud as the image of Jack grinning down at him, knife in hand, overwhelmed him once more.

It couldn't be happening, not after such an amazing night, after everything they'd been through since Jack had returned. Why would he dream such a thing? What in the world was his subconscious trying to tell him?

Ianto took several deep breaths to try and calm his panicked, racing heart. When he glanced up again and saw Jack's face, he almost broke from the hurt and confusion he saw shining out from Jack's eyes. Shaking his head, he tried to climb out of the blankets, but found himself tangled. Jack steadied him with a light touch as he struggled.

"It's all right," Jack said. "Whatever it was, it was a dream. You're here at the Hub, you're safe."

"Right," said Ianto, nodding to try and reassure himself that none of it had been real, and that he was in fact safe. "A dream. A really, really horrible dream."

Jack's hand reached around his shoulder and gently pulled him closer, so they were sitting side by side. Ianto stiffened, the feel of Jack's hands almost repellant after watching them plunge a knife into his chest. "Want to tell me about it?" Jack asked quietly.

"God no," said Ianto, tensing even more. Jack's fingers traced light lines over his arm and shoulders, obviously trying to relax him, as if he were a skittish cat. Ianto wanted to curl into it, but then he remembered the flash of the blade, the pool of blood, the look on Jack's face…

He pulled away, shaking off the blankets and standing up. "I'm fine," he said, though he swayed on his feet and knew he wasn't. The dream unnerved him like few other nightmares had. Jack stood and placed a steady hand at his back.

"What do you need?" he asked. Sometimes Jack really did know what he was doing. Sometimes he was astoundingly clueless when it came to interpersonal relations—Gwen being a prime example—but other times he knew Ianto so well it was almost frightening. Ianto didn't want to be told what to do right now—calm down, take a deep breath, talk to me—he needed control. And he needed the time and space to figure it out himself before he did anything else, including talk about it, which he wouldn't. Jack knew this about him, which was why the dream Jack had been so shocking. The blank look on his face, in his violet eyes, was nothing like the concern flowing from Jack right then.

Ianto shivered, suddenly freezing cold as his overheated body began to cool and the adrenaline surge left him feeling weak. He hurried over to the armchair in the corner and began pulling on his clothes from the day before, trying not to shake. Jack was watching carefully, clearly wanting to help but also still giving Ianto his space.

"I need to shower, get clean," Ianto said as he buttoned up his shirt. Jack nodded.

"You can use mine—" he started, and Ianto's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"No!" he said, unable to stop himself from glancing toward the ensuite, imagining the blood swirling into the drain as he died.

Jack knew. Or rather, he sensed that whatever had upset Ianto had something to do with the bathroom. He moved slowly toward Ianto, as if telegraphing his moves to a nervous colt, then stood blocking the view to the door. "Do you want me to take you home?" he asked.

And somehow that thought terrified Ianto even more. Yes, his dream had taken place in the Hub, but the Hub was in fact where he felt safest. And If he admitted it to himself, Ianto didn't want to be alone with Jack, not at his flat where no one could help him if Jack pulled a knife from behind his back. Which was ridiculous, of course, but the vision was still strong in his mind.

Ianto found himself staring at Jack, who was watching him with a look of deep concern. Ianto shook his head, forced himself to answer.

"No, I'd rather stay. I'll use the communal showers."

"Do you need…do you want me to come with you?" Jack asked. He sounded hesitant, and Ianto wondered if Jack had sussed out that the bad dream not only had something to do with the shower, but with Jack himself. He hoped not. He didn't want something so trivial as a bad dream to come between them now. It was a nightmare, nothing more. Jack would never hurt him.

"I'll be fine," Ianto replied, and offered what he knew was a poor attempt at a smile. "I do want to get clean, after all, not dirty again."

"Hey, I'm perfectly capable of keeping my hands to myself in the shower," Jack protested as Ianto turned and started up the ladder. He was starting to feel more calm, and knew a return to their normal banter would help settle him even more.

"I doubt it," he called down, and was glad to hear Jack laugh. It was much better than frowns and concern. The weeks since Jack had been to Hell had been filled with them as Jack had often fussed over him, and Ianto didn't want to add to it. Just like he didn't want to think about the dream and what it could possibly mean.

Hurrying through the Hub, Ianto tried to put it from his mind, but the images were so intense, the feeling of betrayal so visceral, that he was breathing hard by the time he reached the showers. He grabbed the toiletries he kept in the locker room they all shared and hurried toward the shower stalls. Tossing his suit carelessly on a nearby bench, he stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water full blast, letting it pound his neck and shoulders.

When it came down to it, he was angry—furious that something as ridiculous as a dream could rattle him so badly. Because as much as he was trying _not_ to think about what it meant, it made perfect sense. Jack, so much more affectionate and attentive since his trip to Hell. And then the dream Jack, cold and distant, stabbing him in the heart. He didn't need a degree in psychology to see it, and seeing it hurt. He'd tried to move past his doubts and fears when it came to this thing with Jack, but apparently not. And he probably never would.

An unexpected noise outside startled him, setting his heart racing. He braced himself, half expecting Jack to come bursting in with a knife. Nothing happened, and he finished as fast as he could, feeling ridiculous for being spooked by nothing more than old pipes. He didn't want to be scared in the Hub. It was supposed to be his safe place, and Jack a pillar of strength for them all, not a murderous boss. Ianto dressed in a clean suit and hurried upstairs, needing to be around others, wanting to feel safe again.

After making coffee and scrounging up something to eat from the kitchen, Ianto knew he should return to the archives to finish the cleanup from the previous day. But he didn't want to be alone downstairs, and though he hated that feeling, he also couldn't shake it long enough to head to the archives. Instead, he did as much cleaning as he could around the main area of the Hub, and when Tosh came in a little while later, he immediately took her the artifact he had placed in containment the night before.

It turned out there had been another small Riftquake that morning, barely enough to register on their instruments. Tosh said it was nothing to worry about, but that the Rift was apparently going through an unstable period which they should keep an eye on. It was certainly not something they needed then, given how tired and run-down everyone was already; hopefully nothing major would come through.

They worked on the cube together for most of the morning. The purple light was still pulsating, as well as a second one right next to it, and Ianto found it fascinating in a sick sort of way; it was as if the cube had a beating heart, though Tosh could pick up no signs of anything on her machines. He helped her with test after test that grew increasingly complicated as each failed to turn up any results, finally giving up when he could barely understand a word of what she was talking about.

He debated going down to the archives, or opening the tourist office. Instead, he stood for a moment looking around, trying to find something else to do in the main part of Hub. When he found nothing, he went to the sofa and sat down with a frustrated sigh. He even leaned back and closed his eyes, the fatigue and anxiety of the morning catch up with him. Violently interrupted sleep was sometimes worse than no sleep at all, which was probably why he was out of sorts. So much so that he jumped when Jack appeared in front of him.

"Lunch break!" he said cheerfully, tossing Ianto his coat. Ianto frowned. Usually he ordered out for lunch and either had it delivered or picked it up while running other errands. He was about to point that out when Jack shook his head, holding out a hand.

"I ordered us some sandwiches, and we're picking them up together. A walk would do you good."

Ianto took the offered hand and stood. "I'm fine, Jack. I can get them up if you like."

"I'd like it if you joined me," Jack said, helping Ianto into his coat. "I haven't seen you all morning."

Which was true. Ianto had barely talked to Jack since leaving his room in such a hurry after waking up. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Jack, or that he was afraid of Jack; but he was uncomfortable nonetheless, all because of an irrational dream.

Gazing at the earnest look on Jack's face, Ianto nodded with a small smile. He realized he missed not talking to Jack all morning—no banter, no flirting, no small touches or inappropriate groping. And maybe Jack was right, that a walk would do him some good. He swallowed any fear of being alone with Jack, telling himself that it was absurd. Jack would never hurt him, and besides, they would be in public, and he was armed. Not that he needed to worry; it had been a dream, nothing more.

Gwen and Owen were out on a Weevil call, so they left Tosh working on the cube and monitoring the Rift. Taking the lift to the street, they were silent until they reached the boardwalk. And then Jack casually took Ianto's hand, not even breaking step, and finally brought it up.

"You want to talk about it yet?" he asked quietly, eyes on the water as they walked along the quay. Ianto thought about it.

"I'm not sure what there is to talk about. I had a nightmare. It's just taken longer than usual to shake it off."

Jack glanced sideways at him. "I'm sorry," he said, and Ianto met his eyes in surprise.

"What for?"

"For it happening," Jack replied. "I know how tough nightmares can be." Ianto squeezed his hand in understanding, and Jack shrugged in response. "And I know it must have had something to do with…well, with Torchwood, or the Hub, or with me. You've been spooked all morning and avoiding me."

Ianto sighed. "I didn't mean to," he replied quietly. "But yes…it had to do with Torchwood, and yes, you were there."

Jack was silent for a long moment as they walked. "Was it about Lisa?" he asked. "The night she died?"

Again, Ianto was surprised. "No, of course not. I stopped having those dreams months ago."

This time Jack squeezed his hand. "Good. I'm glad those stopped." They walked in silence for a bit, until Jack spoke again. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Yep," Ianto said. "I already feel better being out of the Hub."

"Me too." He paused again, that hint of uncertainty Ianto had heard several times now coming into his voice. "What do you say we go out tonight too? Dinner that doesn't involve leftovers in bed?"

Ianto smiled. "Sounds good. Anyplace in particular?"

"Actually, I was thinking your place," Jack said. He was looking off into the distance, avoiding Ianto's eyes as if unsure of his suggestion, or Ianto's response. "I could make us something, if you didn't mind."

"Mind what, an actual home cooked meal?" Ianto teased. "Or the mess?"

"How do you know I'll make a mess?" Jack asked.

"I've seen you make breakfast," Ianto replied with a laugh, feeling remarkably better after a few minutes outside with Jack. "I can only imagine what the kitchen would look like after dinner."

"It will look amazing," Jack said. "Because I'll clean up, so there." Ianto half expected him to stick out his tongue.

"It sounds great, Jack," said Ianto, and he meant it. Jack cooking him dinner…the others would never believe it. Of course, they probably wouldn't believe half the things he and Jack got up to some days, especially the ones that didn't involve sex of some sort, but Ianto was finding more and more that their relationship wasn't only about sex. It was slightly alarming how normal and domestic they seemed at times, although Ianto doubted Jack felt the same sense of closeness and contentment that he did. Which was probably another reason for the dream he'd had that morning.

Ianto knew he had feelings for Jack, even if he refused to name them. He couldn't even say what it was between them—casual dating, serious relationship, monogamous, open, going anywhere, going nowhere? He couldn't label it because he knew the moment he did it would be over. That was the kind of man Jack was: a man who had forever ahead of him, but who lived day to day with those around him because one day they would all be dead and gone, leaving him with nothing but heartbreak and memories.

Sometimes Ianto wanted to grab Jack and shake him and make him realize that while Jack had forever, Ianto didn't. A part of him wished Jack would commit something, anything, to whatever time they had together. But he had no frame of reference for the scope of Jack's loss over the many decades of his long life, and felt he had no right to make demands. Ianto had lost only Lisa and could understand not wanting to be involved again; he'd felt that way after she'd died. He'd only hooked up with Jack out of loneliness, for comfort, and as Jack had been as broken as him, it had worked.

Jack was the one who'd asked for more, though, and sometimes Ianto resented him when Jack refused to offer it. Still, he was being supportive and understanding at that moment, and had offered to cook Ianto dinner back at his flat. Once again Ianto accepted the present and told himself to stop worrying about the future.

Putting everything from his mind, he decided to enjoy the rare time alone with Jack during the day. He'd go back to the Hub, enjoy lunch with the team, and maybe head down to the archives to finish his work there. He and Jack would go back to Ianto's flat, Rift willing, and enjoy a home-cooked meal and a night off.

And there would be no worries, no nightmares.

* * *

The pleasant sensation of a warm body lying on top of him slowly brought Ianto out of a dreamless sleep. He smiled, imagining Jack leaning down to kiss him the moment he knew Ianto was awake, and opened his eyes. He went to stretch his arms and wrap them around broad shoulders, but found them pinned to his side by Jack's strong thighs. So it was _that_ sort of wake-up call, then.

Only when he glanced up at Jack's face, he knew immediately that it wasn't. Jack's eyes were a deep shade of indigo, his face wearing that same blank look as he had in Ianto's dream the previous morning. Ianto immediately struggled to escape, fearing the worst, but the moment he moved, Jack's hands shot forward and wrapped themselves around Ianto's neck.

The same awful smile appeared on Jack's face as he leaned forward, squeezing the life from Ianto. He tried to move, to push him off, but Jack had him pinned in all the right ways by his greater body weight, and was still holding Ianto's arms tight against his side with muscular legs. Ianto kicked his feet and tried to buck his hips, but he had no leverage; he was only expending energy.

Though every bone in his body screamed in panic, he forced himself to relax into the bed, gratified when Jack fell forward enough for Ianto to twist his head and neck, loosening Jack's iron grasp. "Get off me!" he gasped, turning his head back and forth so that Jack couldn't get hold of him again. "Get off, you bastard!"

Jack regained his balance, bearing down. One hand went to Ianto's throat in a violent chokehold, thumb and forefinger pinching hard. The other covered Ianto's nose and mouth. Eyes widening as his only hope for air was cut off, he tried to bite at Jack's palm, to no avail. Jack was pushing hard, pressing him into the bed, and Ianto had no way to force him off.

His lungs began to burn, the instinct to breathe, and then to panic when he could not pull in any air, finally kicking in. He shook his head, eyes wide, but Jack simply stared down at him, eyes impassive, and squeezed harder.

There was no blood swirling away this time. Instead, darkness filled Ianto's vision as he began to lose consciousness. His muscles grew heavy and slack, unable to resist any more, as his body craved air that was not available. Jack was forcing the life from him without a care in the world. It vaguely crossed his mind that maybe it was another dream, but it didn't matter. Jack was killing him, and as Ianto lost consciousness his last thought was once again why.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they won't all end like this! Or maybe they will, who knows. I'm posting a quick update to whet interest, then I'll be updating every few days as I edit what I have and finish up the last few chapters. Thank you for all the kudos and reviews, I really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Strong hands grasped his wrists as he flailed, a deep voice cutting through the terror with calming tones, though he had no idea what the words were. Blind panic filled his thoughts: get up, get air. _Breathe._ With one great push and a curse, he shoved the body above him away, gratified to hear a heavy thump on the floor as he gasped for life-affirming air.

"Ianto?" asked Jack. " What the hell happened? What's wrong?"

Ianto slowly opened his eyes to find Jack standing next to the bed, rubbing his shoulder. Jack looked upset and scared, nothing like the dark vision who'd been strangling him moments earlier with a cold and distant smile on his face. Ianto stared at him, confused. Was it real? Had it happened?

His hands flew to his throat, feeling for bruises. Yet of course there was nothing; it had been another dream. Still, that didn't stop his body or his mind from reacting on instinct.

"Ianto?" Jack asked again, reaching out to touch him. Ianto stopped him, ignoring the look of hurt that crossed Jack's face. The other man held up his hands and stepped backward to give him space.

"Another nightmare?" Jack asked quietly.

Ianto nodded, letting his head fall into his hands. He couldn't talk about it yet.

"It was me, wasn't it?" Jack asked. "It was something to do with me."

Ianto nodded again, but didn't say anything more. The silence stretched long and uncomfortable between them. He heard Jack take a deep breath.

"I should go," he said, though his voice betrayed him, and it was clear he didn't want to leave. "I'll head to the Hub. You can come in when you're ready."

Ianto's head whipped up. "What? Why? I'm fine."

"You're not," Jack said gently, stepping closer. Ianto couldn't help but flinch again, and saw the flash of pain on Jack's face once more. "Get some more sleep. Come in for lunch if you feel up to it."

Ianto threw off the covers and stood up, angry at being patronized even though he knew Jack only meant well. "It's five in the morning, Jack," he snapped. "You're not going to work at five in the morning!"

If he had expected Jack to react with anger, he was surprised when Jack simply raised an eyebrow. "Why not? I have before. The Rift waits for no man," he offered with an attempt at a smile that fell flat. Ianto shook his head.

"I'm not going back to sleep," he said. It was true. There was no way he was going back to sleep after that dream. He needed a distraction more than anything, and lying in bed thinking about it was the worst thing he could do right now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Jack. "You were gasping and flailing like you were being smothered or something."

Ianto shuddered as he remembered the dream. He nodded as he began to pull on a pair of flannel pants and a long sleeve shirt. "I was," he replied. Jack began to get dressed as well.

"And yesterday morning?" he asked. "Same thing?"

Ianto stopped and stared at the floor. "Stabbed," he finally replied shortly. He couldn't meet Jack's eyes, but Jack came over anyway and very carefully touched his arm.

"Was it me then too?" he asked. Ianto couldn't reply, and knew his silence answered for him. Jack dropped his hand and blew out a long breath.

"Oh hell, I'm sorry," he started, and Ianto finally looked at him, saw the pain and regret in his face. "No wonder you pushed me away so hard."

"Sorry about that," Ianto murmured. "But yeah. Had to breathe."

"It wasn't real," Jack pointed out, almost sounding desperate. He was keeping his distance, but Ianto sensed how badly Jack wanted to touch him. "It wasn't me."

"I know that," Ianto said flatly. "At least, I think I do. But it felt so real." He let his eyes slip closed. "And absolutely terrifying."

"I would never hurt you," Jack insisted, his voice stronger. "You must believe me, I would never do those things!"

Ianto nodded but did not reply, and Jack's shoulders sagged.

"I should go, I'm only making this harder," he said, and turned to leave the room. Ianto forced himself to reach out and grab Jack's hand, because he knew if Jack left like this, it would only continue to get worse. They had to try and work through it now.

"Don't go," he said, his voice catching. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Please stay. I don't want it to…to be like this."

Jack nodded slowly. "Okay. How about some coffee, then? Unless you want to shower first?"

Ianto felt the same flare of panic as he had the previous morning and shook his head. He walked past Jack and toward the kitchen of his small flat, retreating into the familiar routine of the coffee ritual: setting the kettle to boil, grinding the beans. He waited in silence until the water was hot enough, then added it to the French press before finally turning to Jack.

"I'm sorry," he said, and Jack shook his head in surprise.

"What for?" he asked.

Ianto sighed and waved his hand in the air. "For making things so awkward."

Jack moved forward, paused just outside his personal boundaries and raised an eyebrow, as if asking permission. Ianto smiled and nodded, feeling slightly better out of his bedroom, and Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist in a gesture that was familiar and comfortable.

"It was a bad dream," he said. "There's no reason to feel awkward about having a nightmare."

Ianto laughed nervously. "I keep dreaming that you're trying to kill me, Jack. That's definitely awkward in my book."

"Not in mine," Jack replied firmly. "We'll figure it out. Did it start yesterday?" he asked. Ianto nodded. "Did anything happen that might have triggered it?"

"Nothing that I can think of," Ianto replied. "I woke up yesterday convinced I'd been stabbed to death in the shower."

Jack nodded in understanding. "Which was why you left my room and avoided me all morning. And this time?"

"I was being strangled," Ianto whispered. "In bed." Closing his eyes, he laid his head on Jack's shoulder, hating the show of weakness but needing the comfort. He tensed and then relaxed as Jack rubbed slow circles across his back.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered again. "It will never happen, I promise."

"I know," Ianto said, even though he doubted everything right now.

"Is it something…something I did?" Jack asked hesitantly. "That made you upset, maybe?"

Ianto laughed again, this time with a bitter touch. No, Jack hadn't done anything to hurt him, of course not. He'd been over protective and unusually affectionate over the last two weeks. After the wonderful dinner Jack had cooked for him, followed by a relaxing night at his flat, Ianto knew without question that his dreams were manifesting his fear of the future, not of something from the past. Jack would hurt him one day, there was little doubt. Not by stabbing him in the heart or choking him to death, but whatever happened would hurt him none-the-less.

"It's nothing like that," Ianto said. "For once."

It got a small smile from Jack, but a sad one. They were silent for a moment, and Ianto checked on the coffee, finding it almost ready. He took out two mugs and added some cream to Jack's, sugar to his own; they both drank it differently in the morning than during the day, when straight up black got them through long hours at Torchwood. Mornings were for enjoying a slow cup, though this morning had turned out anything but enjoyable.

Jack took his mug with a smile of thanks, then inclined his head toward the small table in Ianto's kitchen. They sat down, and though Ianto felt self-conscious, the other man looked thoughtful. Ianto wanted to reopen the conversation, but wasn't sure how to start.

"Are you afraid of me?" Jack asked abruptly, catching Ianto so completely off guard that he sipped too much too fast and gasped. When he'd cleared his throat, he answered honestly.

"I'm not, no. That's not it." Of course he wasn't going to admit the real issue to Jack, but then Jack surprised him yet again by seeing toward the heart of it himself.

"It represents something else," Jack suggested. "Maybe you're afraid that I _might_ hurt you. And that's why you dreamed I was killing you."

Ianto shrugged. "Maybe," he said, then tried to diffuse the seriousness of it. "Or maybe it's all the late night eating we've been doing."

Jack stared at him until Ianto began to feel uncomfortable. Finally the other man set down his mug and leaned closer toward Ianto.

"When I was sent to Hell by the matchbox, it wasn't fire and brimstone, like the stories," he started. He glanced down at his hands and swallowed. "It was almost like real life, only the most terrible life possible. I saw things, and did things, that I never thought I'd see or do in my life, things so twisted and horrible—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I know it wasn't real, but it felt like it. It was my own personal version of everything that could possibly go wrong. But even then, it was so strange and bizarre, that looking back I can see it wasn't really about who I killed or who you—" He stopped again. "It was about something else, other things I worry about, even fear."

Ianto was confused. Jack had not talked about what had happened after the matchbox had whipped him away. He'd only said it had felt like he'd been gone for years, that he'd been alone for most of them, and—in his typical deflective fashion—that it had been harder than the typical day at the office. It had taken Jack several days to settle back into his own life and into their sort-of relationship, tentative at first, then affectionate and almost clingy. Ianto assumed something had happened that had rattled Jack, and that being Jack, he would probably never share what it was. Which Ianto understood, because things like that were sometimes far too personal, and Ianto wasn't big on sharing either.

That Jack had shared something about his experience meant a lot to Ianto, though he wasn't sure he understood why Jack had told him now.

"So you think," he started slowly, "that maybe I'm in my own personal version of Hell? That none of this is real?"

"No!" Jack exclaimed, reaching for his hand. "Of course not. It only happens when you're asleep, right?"

"Right. And I'm assuming the matchbox is locked up in the Secure Archive," Ianto replied, but now that the idea was out there, he found that he was worried about it being possible. The lines between dreams and reality felt suddenly blurred and uncertain.

"Yes," said Jack with certainty. "And I'll double check when I go in. What I'm trying to say is…my subconscious cooked up some strange stuff, things I don't want to think about, but I know that it was a reflection of other things that I…well, things that I probably need to work through."

"The meaning in the metaphor," Ianto sighed, letting his head fall forward. It was embarrassing, really, to be having this conversation with Jack of all people. He was the one involved, after all, and Ianto did not like the feeling of exposure or vulnerability admitting such things created. And on top of it all, it reignited his fear that if Jack knew anything about how Ianto felt regarding their relationship, it would be over almost immediately.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jack said earnestly. "In any way. And I wish I could convince you so you don't have another one of these dreams."

"I'm not sure you could if you tried," Ianto said without thinking. It was as if he'd slapped Jack in the face. He sat back in his chair, his face closed and sad. Ianto tried to backtrack, hoping it wasn't too late. "But I don't mean it like it sounds. As the cliché goes, it's not you, but me. It's the things I think about and worry about and need to…well, as you said, need to work on."

Jack was gazing down into his coffee mug with a funny smile on his face. "Jack?" Ianto asked, wondering what was going through the other man's mind, but knowing Jack would probably keep it to himself, as Ianto was leaving so much unsaid.

"Sorry," said Jack, looking back up. "I was thinking about the things I saw in Hell, wondering if maybe we need to work on similar issues."

"Oh." Ianto didn't know what to say; it was more than he'd ever expected as far as admissions went from Jack, though he wasn't entirely sure he knew what Jack was admitting. If Ianto was struggling with these dreams because of his feelings for Jack and his innermost fears of the future, did that mean Jack had gone through something similar in Hell? Was that why he'd come back rattled but attentive?

Ianto's first thought was that it was selfish to think that Jack's issues had anything to do with him. Jack had lived for decades, had probably been in dozens of relationships. He could be struggling with his feelings for any of them; it could even be Gwen that Jack was indirectly referring to, although Ianto hoped that even Jack wasn't so insensitive, in spite of his very public confrontation with Gwen after her fiancé had been shot.

Whatever Jack was referring to, the rare admission meant he too was working through things, and Ianto could understand that. In his own way, Jack was offering support, and Ianto would always offer his in return. The problem was that neither one of them tended to talk much, which made supporting one another a challenge. Still, they had to try.

Ianto reached across the table and clasped Jack's hand. He felt the pressure returned and offered a tentative smile. "Maybe we do," Ianto replied.

Jack smiled back. "And maybe together would make it easier."

Together. It was a word that was terrifying in all its various connotations, but Ianto pushed the fear aside and nodded. They were together, for now, and he would treasure that for as long as he had.

* * *

They were obviously the first ones at the Hub that morning, and would be for a while. Ianto checked the computers for any unusual readings, noting another small Riftquake. No Weevils, though, and no odd calls to local law enforcement. After making some coffee and this time taking it to Jack, which earned him a long and deep kiss, Ianto decided he couldn't put it off any longer: he needed to finish the cleanup in the Archives.

He wasn't even sure why he was no nervous about it. It wasn't as if either of his dreams had taken place in the Archives, nor had any other traumatic events. He needed to get over his nerves and get the job done.

Tosh called down midmorning and asked if he wouldn't mind making some coffee, as well as helping with more tests on the cube he'd found in the Archives the other night. When he got upstairs, he saw that more squares were lit up, all pulsating a deep purple color. The problem was that Tosh couldn't find any readings whatsoever indicating whether it was dangerous.

"I can't tell you whether it's going to explode or start playing show tunes," she said, sounding frustrated. "It's obviously doing something, and the scanners are telling me there's some sort of activity in there, but either we can't read what it is, or it's too heavily shielded."

"It was tagged as a weapon," Ianto pointed out. "So shielding would make sense. Have you tried taking it apart?"

She gave him a withering look, and he held up his hands with a grin. "Of course you have. What's the problem? Radiation?"

"Not at all," she said. "I can't get in."

"What?" asked Ianto. Nothing ever stumped Tosh.

"I've tried everything I can think of short of smashing it with a hammer to get inside, and I can't. It's very frustrating," she added, though it was obvious how she felt about it. He patted her on the shoulder.

"It's the nature of the job," he told her, and they shared a smile. "So how can I help?"

"I know it's a long shot, but I was wondering if there was any other information you could dig up in the archives on it," she said. "On Xrillians, on how it was found, anything, even artifacts that look remotely similar. I'm stuck, Ianto, and I want to be sure it's not dangerous considering how it keeps changing."

Ianto nodded. "I'll do my best. There was nothing with it other than the tag, and I don't recall seeing anything on Xrillians since I started here, but maybe if I dig around in the files from when it was found I'll find something."

"Brilliant," she said, clapping her hands. "And I'm going to take a look at some Rift data from the quakes that I've been meaning to run through. I'll come back to it later with fresh eyes and anything you come up with."

Ianto turned to leave, then stopped as he had a thought. "Tosh, I found it cleaning up the archives after the Riftquake on Monday. That's when I noticed it had changed color. Could the Rift itself have had something to do with it, as opposed to the fall?"

She glanced up from her computer and pushed her glasses on her head. "Ianto! That's brilliant! Of course it could have. I assumed it was triggered falling off the shelf."

"So did I," Ianto admitted. "But maybe looking at the Rift data will give you some ideas for something else to look for."

"You're amazing," she said, eagerly turning back to her computers, then glanced over her shoulder and winked. "No wonder Jack likes you so much."

Ianto stared at her for a moment, wondering where _that_ statement had come from, then abruptly turned on his heel and left, hoping she hadn't seen him blush. He had no idea what Tosh was thinking about him and Jack, but knowing she was thinking anything left him slightly flustered. Yes, she was his friend, but this thing with Jack was still so new, and rather confusing, and definitely something he wanted to keep to himself. Bad enough Gwen and Owen had both given him a hard time about it (playing for both teams? Really?) but for Tosh to start seeing something Ianto wasn't even sure existed made it that much harder.

Heading toward the basement, he decided he'd finish with the rest of the fallen artifacts, then get started on the research for Tosh after lunch. Maybe the cube would provide him with the distraction he needed, a puzzle for his jumbled thoughts.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm hoping to post another update this weekend, but real life may get in the way, we'll see. As the next few chapters are mostly complete, it won't be that long, never fear!


	4. Chapter 4

4.

"Jack?" Ianto called into the Hub, wondering where the others were. He checked his watch and saw that it was well past dinner time. He vaguely remembered the others going out on a Weevil call during the afternoon, but was sure they'd returned. Maybe Gwen had called down to say good night, but he'd been so caught up in his research he'd completely missed it.

Hours spent searching the archives, both the paper trail as well as the digital files, had finally got him some results. He didn't know much about the Xrillian cube, but he had a lead on where to find more information.

"Jack!"

"In here," came a reply from Jack's office. Ianto entered to find Jack sitting behind his desk with his feet propped up, a drink in one hand and _The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy_ in the other. He set it down and grinned.

"Ianto Jones, hard at work as always!" he said. Ianto raised an eyebrow as he stood before Jack's desk.

"I wish I could say the same for you, sir," he replied dryly, wondering why Jack was reading a book, instead of actually working; he always had paperwork to catch up on. Then again, it was past dinner and everyone else had left, why shouldn't Jack relax? They all deserved time off the clock, and Jack took the least of all of them.

"Research," said Jack. "Did you know a lot of this is true?"

"Right," replied Ianto, rolling his eyes. "Which parts? The Vogons? The Babel fish? The restaurant at the end of the universe?"

Jack leaned forward. "Forty-two," he whispered, and Ianto couldn't help but grin.

"The answer to life, the universe, and everything?" he asked, and Jack nodded very solemnly.

"And Vogon poetry really does make your ears bleed," he said. "The harmonics are too harsh for human ear drums."

Ianto shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask if that's true, nor am I going to ask what you're really doing."

"Taking a break," Jack replied with an open smile. "Find what you've been looking for?"

"If you mean you, then yes," Ianto replied.

Expecting a typical innuendo-laden response, Ianto was slightly surprised when Jack sat up and frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, eyeing the folder in Ianto's hands.

Ianto knew Jack hated talking about his past, but he was reasonably forthcoming when it came to his long tenure with Torchwood, particularly when it affected the team or a case in some way. He hoped this would be the same and handed Jack the file.

"I've been looking for information on the Xrillian cube to help Tosh. There was very little about it or the Xrillians in the archives, until I finally tracked down the paper files from when it was brought in and found this." He motioned at the file and Jack picked it up, still looking wary. Ianto was unsettled by the other man's reaction, but continued. "You were there when the cube was found, in 1963. There were two of them, actually. You wrote the report."

Jack didn't even open the folder. His eyes had gone distant, his mouth a thin line. Ianto was tempted to step back, but held his ground. He had nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be sorry for. He'd found the file on the cube, but it hadn't told him very much, only that there had been an alien incursion in the Hub and that Jack had been forced to kill it in order to secure the site. What one had to do with the other wasn't clear, yet judging from Jack's reaction, there was much more to it, and he wasn't happy about it.

Jack nodded slowly, taking the still unopen file and placing it in his desk drawer. As he withdrew his hand, Ianto saw that Jack was holding his Webley, and pointing it straight at him. He instinctively stepped backward.

"Jack, what the hell is going on?" he exclaimed. The other man stood and came around the desk, his face dark and angry. Ianto continued to back away, this time with his hands up. Something niggled in the back of his mind, that this couldn't be happening, it couldn't be real, because none of the other times Jack had threatened him had been real. Only this felt as real as those moments had, possibly even more so.

"I'm sorry, Ianto," he said. Ianto's eyes went wide. Jack hadn't spoken, yet alone apologized, in Ianto's first two dreams, which meant it must be actually happening. A sick feeling churned in his gut, that this time he would die, by Jack's hand, in Jack's office. With a snarl of defiance, he took several steps forward, thinking to try and disarm Jack, only for Jack to click the safety and shake his head.

"Don't even think about it," said Jack. "You know I'm faster."

"Bastard," Ianto hissed. Jack shrugged.

"I've been called worse. I have no choice, Ianto. You shouldn't have found that file."

"No," Ianto replied. "I don't believe you. There's nothing in that file worth killing me over!"

"Probably not," Jack agreed. "But the others can't know about it. I'd Retcon you, but let's face it, you're too tenacious to give up. Just as bad as Gwen sometimes."

Ianto wasn't sure if it was an insult or a compliment and ignored it.

"What's so terrible about the cube, Jack?" he demanded, knowing he had to keep Jack talking. It gave him time to try and come up with a plan, though he really doubted he'd succeed. He was alone in the Hub with Jack, he didn't have his comm, his gun, or even his mobile with him. Attacking Jack would only get him shot sooner, as would running. Time was his only ally right now. "What can't we know about 1963?"

"If I told you I'd have to kill you," Jack grinned. It was the same over bright smile Ianto had seen in his dreams, and he shuddered. Jack wasn't joking; he was dead serious.

"You're going to kill me anyway, so tell me what I'm dying for," he snapped. "At least make it worth my life."

Jack shook his head as he took several steps backward, his eyes flashing that strange shade of violet. "I don't think so. No more stalling for time. Good-bye, Ianto. The dark is waiting."

The sharp retort of the gun echoed loudly in Jack's office, the smell of powder instantly filling the air. Ianto felt the bullet slam into his chest; he jerked once and fell forward, blood splattering his shirt and suit coat. He landed on his hands and knees, then toppled to his side. The bullet had obviously punctured a lung, if not nicked his heart, because he couldn't breathe and there was a lot of blood. Already his vision was going dark.

It had happened again. Ianto was dying at Jack's hand, and he knew this time he wouldn't wake up.

* * *

"Shit!" Ianto fell out of his chair in the archives, landing on the cold floor with an ungainly thud and banging his head on the chair. For a moment he sat there, breathing heavily, trying to piece together the images in his brain. While he was in full blown panic mode due to being shot by Jack, Ianto was sure there was something else going on. Something to do with the cube. He only had to remember.

He scrambled back up to his desk, grabbing the folder he'd been reading when he'd fallen asleep at his place. It was an incident report on the Xrillian cube, dated October 14, 1963. It was written in Jack's looped script, and though it was short on details, it was something. He had been about to take it to Jack when he'd fallen asleep.

With a disappointed sigh, Ianto realized he'd simply incorporated the file into the theme of his other dreams. There was nothing in the file worth hiding, after all, nothing worth killing him over. His subconscious was once again making up images to deal with his fears, or perhaps one of his frustrations. Jack really didn't like to talk about his past, and there were times when Ianto genuinely feared it would come back to bite them all in the proverbial arse—John Hart being a prime example.

There was a sound behind him, and he scrambled in his desk drawer for the handgun he kept there for emergencies. Whirling around, he found Jack standing in the doorway, his face startled as his hands flew up.

"Just me," he said, sounding unsure. Ianto didn't lower the gun.

"Prove it," he growled, his heart still racing.

"What?" asked Jack, stepping into the office and glancing around. "Ianto, it's me, Jack. How am I supposed to prove that?"

Ianto found his hands starting to shake as the adrenaline left his system. His arm fell, and he dropped his head with a curse. "Why does this keep happening?" he whispered. Jack was there in two steps, wrapping his arms around Ianto in spite of any protests.

"We'll figure it out," he said. "Please let me help."

Ianto let himself relax into the embrace for a moment, then stepped away, ignoring the hurt look on Jack's face. "There's nothing you can do."

"Because it was about me again, wasn't it?" Jack asked. "You had another dream."

Ianto stared at him, unwilling to admit it, but what else could he say? He held up the file instead. "It was about this."

Jack took the file and began to read through it. Ianto kept a tight hold on his gun, the terrible scene from his dream replaying in his mind's eye. He even checked to see if Jack had his Webley, but as far as Ianto could tell, it was still in Jack's office. He knew he shouldn't feel threatened, but he didn't feel safe either.

Jack was nodding to himself. "I remember this now," he said, looking up at Ianto. "Did you dream about the Xrillian?"

"Not exactly," Ianto sighed. "Look, Tosh is looking for anything to help her figure out that cube—whether it's working, activated, dangerous. We've got nothing on the device or the Xrillians other than that file, so is there anything you can tell her?"

Jack was frowning at him. Ianto knew he was being short, but he wanted to focus on the case, not on the fact that he'd fallen asleep at his desk and had another nightmare. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Yes, he'd had nightmares ever since Canary Wharf, and Jack knew it. But three bad dreams in three days that left him gasping and unsettled was extreme; he was starting to dread falling asleep that night.

"Jack?" Ianto prompted when Jack didn't answer. He shut the folder and sighed.

"Tosh left a few minutes ago. We had another Riftquake, but there was nothing to follow up on, so I sent her home. I came down to see if you'd felt it. Thought maybe you might want to take a break, get something to eat…" He trailed off, probably at the look on Ianto's face. He wasn't hungry and he certainly wasn't tired right then, and the thought of heading home with Jack made him nervous and tense. Apparently Jack could sense it, because he handed Ianto the file and shook his head.

"Look, don't feel like you need to stay around here," he said. "There's nothing else predicted and if there are any calls, I'll head out and handle them. You get some rest."

Ianto wanted to protest, felt like he should, and any other night he would take advantage of the down time to spend it with Jack outside of work. But not this night. He wanted to go home and … well, he wasn't sure what he would do. Something that had nothing to do with Torchwood or Jack or dying. Maybe head to the local he'd found while Jack had been gone and play pool for a few hours. Watch a match, have some pints, and see if that didn't help him make it through the night without imagining another grisly death at Jack's hands.

"Right," said Ianto, avoiding Jack's gaze. "I think…yeah, I'll do that. But what about the cube?"

Jack tucked his hands into his pockets with a shrug. "I don't think there's much I can add that will help, but I'll go over it tomorrow with you both, first thing. The important thing is to come in well rested and feeling better, okay?"

"I feel fine," Ianto protested.

"You fell asleep at your desk," Jack pointed out.

"Not unusual in this job," Ianto muttered.

"You had another bad dream and pulled a gun on me," Jack replied quietly. "That's unusual."

"Yes, well…" Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I really don't know what's going on."

"You don't have to apologize," Jack replied. "You've done nothing wrong. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I wish I could help you."

"You have nothing to apologize for either," Ianto said. "And I know you want to help, but I don't think there's anything you can do. I have to work through whatever this is on my own."

"Let me know if you need anything, all right?" Jack said. "And I mean anything—call me in the middle of the night if you have to. I'll be here."

Ianto nodded. "Thanks." He set the file down and grabbed his suit coat. "I guess I'll see you in the morning then." He offered Jack a small smile, not sure what the proper goodbye was for them, particularly when things were uneasy. Jack nodded and stepped aside, then reached for Ianto's arm as he passed. He placed a gentle kiss on Ianto's cheek before he left.

"Call me," he said softly. "And have a good night."

"You too," Ianto replied, and left. He knew Jack would probably wait to follow him upstairs, but he still moved as quick as he could, grabbed his coat, and left the Hub without a glance back. He thought about stopping at Tesco on his way home, then decided he didn't want to bother cooking and would rather eat out. A noisy pub might be exactly the thing to take his mind off his dreams. Fish and chips, a few pints, some pool, and hopefully he'd be too tired to dream about Jack shooting him again. Or worse.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekend update, as I hoped! And I'm working hard to edit the next chapter for Halloween! Once I catch up to myself, updates will probably take a bit longer. I thought I was pretty close to the end when I started posting, but it keeps growing and growing. Both a good and a bad thing. I do hope you enjoy it. I am trying to do several things with this story, so please let me know what you see or think! Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Ianto felt the rumble beneath him as he walked along the Quay with coffee and pastries for the team the next morning. He juggled his packages and pulled out his mobile to call Jack at the same moment it rang.

"Where are you?" Jack asked without preamble, sounding tense.

"About to enter the tourist office," Ianto replied, tucking the phone under his chin to dig out his keys.

"Did you feel that?"

"Sure did. Another Riftquake?"

He stepped inside quickly and shut the door, making sure the closed sign was in the window. If they were dealing with more Riftquakes, the last thing he wanted were tourists at his door.

"Yep, and a big one. Tosh says something came through."

Ianto didn't even bother with the office, but went directly to the lift and hurried downstairs, still on the phone with Jack. He sounded distracted, and Ianto could hear typing in the background. "Call Gwen and Owen, we need them here ten minutes ago. I'm going to call the mayor and let her know what's going on."

He hung up as Ianto stepped out of the lift into the main part of the Hub. Tosh had beat him into work and was sitting at her computer, typing furiously as Jack spoke to the mayor on his mobile behind her.

Ianto set the pastries and coffee down by the sofa and called Gwen first, then Owen before he tossed his coat on the chair and began to pull up various programs on his computer, searching for local news reports on damage and injuries. He returned a text from his contact in the police and sent a high priority email to UNIT to keep them informed. Turning to ask Tosh a question, he found Jack standing right behind him and couldn't help but start in surprise, his chair rolling back. A look of hurt flashed across Jack's face at his response.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Ianto sighed, hearing more in Jack's words than he was saying. "You didn't scare me, Jack. You startled me."

"How are you?" Jack asked. He tucked his hands into his pockets as if trying to stop himself from reaching out. Ianto found he missed it.

"I'm fine," he said. And he was, even if is heart was beating slightly faster than usual, and not for the normal reasons when Jack was around.

"You've been saying that for three days and then waking up with nightmares," Jack pointed out. "Did you, uh, have a good night?"

Ianto had gone down to his local, as he'd planned. He'd enjoyed the bustle of the crowd around him, losing himself in the normalcy of a night at the pub watching whatever match had been on the telly. He'd had a few pints, played pool with the local blokes (and lost so bad they'd asked what had him off his game), and gone home to bed.

And he'd slept through the night without a single nightmare.

He nodded reluctantly, debating what to tell Jack. He didn't want the other man to think that he'd slept better because he hadn't been with Jack…except that had been exactly the case. It was as if not being around Jack, even for one night, had allowed Ianto's doubts and fears to dissipate enough that his subconscious didn't twist them in his dreams. Ianto hoped one night was enough, as he didn't want to end things permanently with Jack in order to get a good night's sleep.

And he had missed Jack. Yes, he'd needed the time to himself and had enjoyed his night out, completely unplugged from Torchwood, but at times he'd really wanted to call Jack and invite him out to the pub. They'd stopped in for a pint once or twice, but not for long, and never to play pool. Ianto wondered what it would be like, spending time with Jack in such a casual setting, like normal people did after work. They'd been out on dates, even casual ones, but it was always just them, still in their little bubble—a dark movie theater, a small table in the corner of the restaurant. Ianto knew the folks at the pub and couldn't help but wonder if Jack would fit in.

He suspected Jack would fit in perfectly fine. Yet if he were honest with himself, as much as Ianto thought about taking Jack to the pub, he also liked keeping something to himself. Why shouldn't he? They didn't have that kind of relationship, after all, not really—not the kind where he brought Jack home to meet his family and friends, anyway. And it wasn't as if Ianto knew everything about Jack, why should he offer everything of himself?

"I watched the match at my local," he finally replied, sensing Jack was waiting for more than a nod. "Played pool, lost rather spectacularly."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were good at pool."

Ianto shrugged. "I usually do pretty well. Off my game, I suppose."

"I used to play," Jack offered. "Been a while, though. Maybe you could show me some moves sometime."

It was a peace offering if there ever was one, even if it wasn't necessary. Ianto bit back the impulse to reject Jack's offer and cling greedily to his life outside of work and Jack. There was a place near the Hub they could play, after all, and it would probably be fun. He thought he remembered Tosh saying something about it once, maybe they could go as a team.

Yet from the look on Jack's face it was obvious he wasn't thinking of including the others, and Ianto couldn't help but feel pleased about that. Jack wanted to be with him. He made that clear in so many small ways. Why did Ianto have such doubts? Why was he so scared of being with Jack that in his dreams Jack killed him over and over?

He wasn't scared. End of story. It was what it was and he'd enjoy it while he could, and that included a date to play pool with Jack. He smiled at Jack. "Sounds good. How about next weekend sometime?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" Jack asked, moving closer until he was standing between Ianto's legs. He was grinning, but it was the genuinely happy smile Ianto liked so much, not the over bright plastic grin he used to throw people off. Or murder them in their dreams.

Ianto leaned back, enjoying the banter. "Interested?"

"In you beating the pants off me at pool?" Jack murmured quietly so the others couldn't hear them. "Oh yeah."

"Pants are usually required at the pub," Ianto replied, eyeing him up and down. "But I'm sure we can find time to take them off later."

"Oh, you know I can always—" Jack started, but was interrupted by the cog door opening. Owen stomped through, saw Jack practically sitting in Ianto's lap, and threw up his hands.

"That is _not_ how I want to start my day," he groaned, then headed toward his station. "Tosh, what's happening? I don't want to interrupt whatever's going on over there."

"Nothing's going on, Owen!" Jack called, winking down at Ianto. "You interrupted us."

"Thank god for small favors," muttered the doctor.

Tosh was obviously trying not to laugh when her computer beeped at her. "I think I've pinpointed whatever came through, Jack," she said, glancing up. "It's in the Wetland Reserve. Organic."

"Right around the corner!" Jack grinned. "Let's go see what we've got. Owen, Ianto, grab your wellies and gear up." Owen groaned again.

They were still getting ready when Gwen came hurrying in in. Jack told her to keep an eye on the news feeds for any stories about the Riftquake and to stay in contact with the police if necessary. Unlike the other quakes, which had only affected the Hub, if at all, Ianto had felt the latest one outside near the tourist office. They weren't sure far out it had extended or if anyone on the Plass had noticed, but it was possible they'd need to do some damage control if there was any sort of widespread panic or concern, or if the authorities came investigating above them.

Ianto was walking past one of the work tables when he noticed the cube Tosh had been working on. Apparently she had taken it out of the containment box to study again, and it was almost completely lit up.

"Tosh!" he called, pointing to it. "Should it be doing that?"

She hurried over with her scanner and frowned. "I have no idea, and I'm still not picking up anything dangerous. Did you find anything yesterday in the archives?"

He nodded. "I found the report from when it was catalogued. Apparently the retrieval team found two of them in 1963, though one of them was destroyed by the passage through the Rift. They studied the other one a bit, but came up with about as much as we have."

"So, a dead end, basically," she sighed.

"Well, there was something about an alien incursion in the Hub, though it wasn't clear how they were related. Jack was there, he said he'd go over it with us later."

"And it will make for a fascinating lunch conversation" said Jack, coming up behind him. "All ten minutes of it. Lock it up again for now and monitor the Rift, Tosh. We'll keep working on it once we've resolved everything else."

They hurried out to the SUV, Owen climbing into the back seat and leaving Ianto in the front with Jack. Something was nagging at the back of his mind about the cube.

"I picked up the cube after the first Riftquake," he said as Jack pulled out of the garage. "Tosh and I thought perhaps something about the Rift itself triggered it to activate."

"But activate to do what?" asked Jack. "It makes sense, I suppose, but why the pretty lights? What's it doing?"

Ianto was silent, trying to puzzle it out. He had found the cube after the first Riftquake on Monday morning. He'd assumed the fall from the shelf had knocked something loose inside, causing it to light up. Tosh hadn't been able to pick up any readings from it, however, good or bad. They really had no idea if it was dangerous or not, but now it had changed again with another, larger Riftquake. Ianto couldn't help but think that something about the cube was definitely dangerous, and that it was connected to the Rift.

It was a short drive to the Wetland Reserves. As they left the car, Gwen called in on the comms to tell them that the Riftquake hadn't been felt much beyond the Hub and a small area of the Plass. It was starting to pop up on the news reports, but shouldn't be a problem. Tosh told them they were getting close to whatever had come through the Rift.

Fortunately, the park was mostly empty, and they quickly found what they were looking floating next to the boardwalk zigzagging through the marsh. It was a squid-like creature, the size of a very large dog with twice as many tentacles as an earth-bound squid. The three eyes also gave it away as alien, but those eyes were unseeing, as it was obviously dead. It was various shades of deep blue and green, and Ianto suspected it was a beautiful creature on its own world, alive and under water. It was retrievals like this that he hated. The creature had been innocently ripped form its own time and place and left for dead on an alien world. It hardly seemed fair.

He grabbed a portable stretcher, some wading boots, and several pairs of plastic gloves from the SUV. He and Jack slipped on the gloves and boots and lowered themselves into the knee deep brackish water, the mud squelching beneath his feet. It was deeper than it looked, and they both stumbled a few times, getting mud and water all over their pants. The creature weighed far more than expected, and it was difficult getting it onto the boardwalk. Unfortunately, one of the sharp tentacles caught Ianto across the back of his hand as he lifted it, ripping the glove and drawing a thin line of blood. He stumbled in surprise, barely catching himself from falling into the dirty water and splashing his suit even more. It wasn't more than a scratch, but it began to burn immediately; within seconds it was red and inflamed. He hurried to finish, then lifted himself back onto the boardwalk, his hand on fire, his legs cold and wet.

"Jack!" Owen called as he examined it. Jack had put his coat back on and was walking around taking readings with his wrist strap, making sure no other creatures had fallen into the water nearby, and turned as the doctor called him. "We need to get back to the Hub, the squid thing nicked teaboy here and I'm thinking it's poisonous."

Ianto winced; his hand was swelling, hot and painful. Jack hurried over, laying a concerned hand on Ianto's arm. Ianto offered him a tight smile.

"Don't worry, I'll still beat you at pool," he managed. Jack nodded but did not smile, and helped Owen carry the alien to the SUV as Ianto walked behind them, carrying everything else they'd brought out with them, his feet still squelching in the waders. He climbed into the back seat hoping to change back into his loafers and dry off, which was when he noticed his arm was numb and he was out of breath. Something was very wrong.

"Owen?" he called out the door, but before he could say more, he felt a wave of dizziness and toppled over onto the seat. Owen was there immediately.

"He's going into anaphylactic shock," he swore. "Jack, get us back to the Hub!" He climbed into the back seat with Ianto while Jack started the SUV and peeled away, racing through the streets back to the Hub. Ianto could vaguely hear Jack on the comms telling Tosh and Gwen what had happened and to clear the lights for the SUV.

Owen was rummaging through his bag, still swearing under his breath, until he came up with a large plastic tube that he placed against Ianto's leg. "Epinephrine shot," he said. Ianto felt a sharp prick in his thigh and heard Owen counting under his breath. "Should keep you going until we get to the Hub."

Ianto felt the effects immediately as his breathing eased. Although maybe that had to do with the oxygen mask Owen placed on his face as well, he wasn't sure. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, wondering what else could possibly go wrong with his life. From going to Hell to nightmares to allergic reactions to aliens, it was really not going well.

He idly wondered if he'd dream about murderous squid now instead of Jack.

"Ianto?" called a voice from far away. There was a hand on his face. "Oi, tea-boy, stay with me. Don't you fall asleep, I'm not lugging your heavy arse into the Hub. You're walking in on your own."

"I'm tired," Ianto groaned, pushing Owen's hand away.

"You cut your hand," said Owen. "You're fine."

"You said I was in shock," Ianto said. He felt the car come to a stop, heard the doors open, and then Jack was there, reaching into the car to pick him up. Oh no, that would never do. Ianto pushed him away and sat up on his own.

"And I gave you a shot for it," said Owen. "So if don't want Jack to carry you in like a baby, I suggest you walk and let him help you so you don't crack your head open too."

"I'm not a baby," Ianto replied, his voice oddly slurred. He stepped out of the car and stumbled, only avoiding the pavement thanks to Jack. "I can walk."

"Lean on me," said Jack, wrapping Ianto's arm around his shoulder as they walked toward the Hub. "You'll be all right."

"Of course I will," said Ianto. "I'm not getting killed by a giant alien squid, not today."

Jack eyed him strangely, but they hurried inside in silence, until Ianto suddenly remembered something.

"The dead alien squid!" he exclaimed, trying to turn around. "We can't leave it in the SUV."

"We'll get it later," said Jack. "Owen can have some fun cutting it up."

"Mm, sushi," Ianto murmured, and Jack laughed, although Ianto thought Jack also sounded strangely nervous. Gwen and Tosh hurried up to them, but Jack waved them away.

"Apparently not for you," said Owen as they descended into the medical bay. "You allergic to shellfish and leave it off your record, by any chance?"

Ianto gave him a confused look. "Not that I know of, no. Why?"

"Because that was a classic allergic reaction to shellfish."

"Or to a poisonous alien," Ianto pointed out. Jack helped him sit down, which felt much better than walking. He even tried to lay down, but Owen stopped him by running a scanner over him, then bustling about.

"I'm giving you another dose to be safe. I'll run some tests later to make sure, but I'd suggest you stay away from shellfish next time your boyfriend takes you out to dinner."

"I don't really like seafood," Ianto muttered as he felt another shot, this time in his upper arm. It vaguely occurred to him that Owen was probably referring to Jack. Ianto thought about saying something, only he was too tired. The doctor picked up his hand and began to clean the scratch.

"I can do that," said Jack, moving forward to take Ianto's hand. He jerked his head toward the stairs. "Why don't you get the body? Have the girls help you."

Owen shrugged. "Fine. No hanky-panky, though. I'll be right back."

Ianto frowned, wondering why Owen was leaving. He had a crap bedside manner, but he didn't usually _leave_ people in distress. Jack wasn't a doctor, what if Ianto needed more medicine? Or stitches? Would Jack try and flirt him better?

Jack was cleaning his hand, though, and it already felt better. Ianto relaxed, thinking maybe it wasn't so bad to let Jack help him. Maybe they could even play doctor later, when Ianto could think straight…

He sensed Jack step away and his eyes opened in surprise. He hadn't even realized he'd closed them. Jack rinsed out the cloth he'd been using to clean Ianto's hand; when he turned around he wasn't holding a bandage or cream, but another needle. A big one.

"What's that for?" Ianto asked. Jack smiled…the overly big smile from his dreams, the fake one. No, it couldn't be happening. Not again. He must be imagining it. Maybe he was hallucinating. Did anaphylaxis cause hallucinations? He couldn't remember. He scrambled off the table, trying to get away from Jack, but the waders tripped him up and his knees buckled beneath him.

"Stay away from me," Ianto shouted. "Owen! Tosh!"

Jack sneered down at him, blue eyes flashing violet. "They went out to get the body, remember? Leaving me here with you. All alone."

"Why are you doing this?" Ianto demanded, though his voice sounded weak and scared. Jack reached down and hauled him up, his hand squeezing painfully over the muscle where Owen had given Ianto a second injection. He gasped in pain. Jack leaned closer.

"Because I can," Jack said.

"This isn't real," Ianto said, trying to talk himself into believing it. "It's another dream. It's just me and my messed up mind dreaming again."

"No," said Jack, sounding quite rational and very real. "It's not. This is a needle and there is enough epinephrine in here to kill you."

"No, it's supposed to help me," said Ianto, struggling to get away. "I'm allergic to alien squids." Jack pulled him closer, tighter, the needle at his throat.

"Too much will work your heart so hard it will burst," Jack whispered in his ear. "So when you think about it, I am about to literally break your heart."

"No!" Ianto cried, but he couldn't jerk away before Jack plunged the needle into his chest, laughing the entire time. Ianto felt the drug burst into his body, sending his heart rate soaring, and he scrambled away as Jack let him go. The drug worked fast. He was so dizzy he could barely move, and panic was making it harder and harder to breathe. He stumbled over to the steps, collapsing at the bottom, unable to do more than claw at the next step.

A fist closed around his heart, but even as he felt the darkness surround him, he heard Jack, calling his name. . .

"Ianto! Ianto!"

Ianto surged forward, gasping for breath and flailing wildly. His heart was racing, but at least it was still beating. He felt two strong hands grasp his wrists and opened his eyes to find Jack holding him, his eyes wide and terrified. Ianto struggled, but couldn't get free of Jack's iron grasp. He swore and used both feet to push Jack away him, kicking him hard in the stomach and sending the other man tumbling across the room. He heard Owen swear behind him and felt another needle, this one at his neck.

"No," he said, trying to swat at Owen. But whatever the doctor had given him was quick, and he felt the panic subside almost immediately into a blissful fog of peace. Small hands helped guide him to the table, and he heard Owen murmur, "Thanks, Tosh."

"What happened?" asked Gwen. Ianto let his head loll to the side and saw her helping Jack, who was looking at Ianto with a look of both fear and concern.

"I don't know. Owen?"

Ianto rolled his head back toward the doctor and tried to concentrate on what they were saying. "He went catatonic while I was cleaning his hand," the doctor said. "Then he started yelling and flailing."

Ianto tried to sit up, but was pushed back down. "No," he said. "That's not right…it was Jack…Jack was cleaning my hand…"

Owen shook his head. "Sorry, mate, that was all me."

"No, you left," Ianto insisted. "To get the body. Jack cleaned my hand. Then he stabbed a needle into my chest. He was trying to kill me."

From the corner of his eye he saw Jack's head fall in defeat. Above him, Tosh was frowning. She ran a gentle hand across his forehead, and he leaned into the comforting touch.

"Ianto, Jack didn't do anything. He'd never hurt you."

"He sent you all away, so he could kill me," Ianto insisted, though he was starting to wonder if it had been another dream. Only he wasn't asleep, he hadn't even dozed off. It was the middle of the morning and he was in the medical bay.

"Gwen and I got the body, and Owen was here with Jack the entire time. He only grabbed you at the end to try and calm you," said Tosh.

Ianto sighed and looked over at Jack again, who looked so sad he felt bad for saying anything. Then he remembered the expression on Jack's face as he'd plunged the needle into Ianto's chest, and he turned away. "I'm sorry," he murmured to no one in particular.

No one spoke, no one moved, and for a moment Ianto felt as if he were in another bad dream as the team stood in stunned silence around him. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them it would all be over.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Hope you are all sufficiently turned around now. ;)
> 
> Also, I once again must admit I am not an expert in anything, particularly medicine, Cardiff Bay, and the use of the term wellies/boots/waders in Wales. Although I did look up and ask a few people about them, so many thanks to Angstosaur and Summerstar. All mistakes are my own.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

The silence weighed heavily on the room. Ianto felt it acutely, that this was somehow all his fault, and now the others had been dragged into his personal life as well. He wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

"What's wrong with him, Owen?" asked Gwen, finally breaking the awkward moment. "Is he having a reaction to the medication?"

"Could be, but I don't think so," replied the doctor. "What's going on, Jack?"

Ianto's eyes flew open. "Don't."

Jack took a few steps closer, reached out to Ianto, and apparently thought better of it. "I'm sorry, but something else is happening here. Something's wrong. This isn't you." He took a deep breath and met Owen's eyes. "Ianto has been having nightmares. About being killed."

Owen frowned. "All right, but that wasn't a nightmare. That was more like a hallucination. He was awake, sitting right here with his eyes open." He glanced down at Ianto. "Start talking. How long have you been having these dreams?"

"Three days," Ianto replied, letting his eyes close so he didn't have to see the looks on everyone's face. "But like you said, I was asleep, never awake."

"What did you dream exactly?" said Owen. Ianto blew out a breath.

"Ianto," Jack started, and he waved him off.

"It's fine, Jack. You're right, they should know the details if it's going to happen in the middle of the day." He paused and took stock of how much he wanted to say. "I'm feeling better, can I sit up to talk about this?" Owen nodded and Tosh helped him to sit up. Ianto looked down at his hands as he spoke. He idly noticed that someone had taken off the wellies and left him in his socks, which were wet and uncomfortable.

"The dreams start out normal, it's like I'm awake it's so real, and then it all goes wrong. Then I die. The first time I was stabbed, then strangled, then shot. Now poisoned." He let out a bitter snort. "Always different, and it doesn't seem to matter where I am, here or at home."

"And it started three days ago?" asked Owen. "But you didn't think to say anything?"

"Owen, it's not unusual to have nightmares in this job," Ianto pointed out wearily. "I've had them before, although it's been a while. I figured they'd work themselves out."

"Only now you're hallucinating, so I'd say there's more going on here. I want to run some tests."

"Oh joy," said Ianto. Owen pointed a finger at him.

"You were catatonic. What if it happened while you were driving? Out in the field chasing down a Weevil?"

Ianto was silent. In front of him, Jack was chewing his thumb, but didn't say anything. Owen began gathering whatever he needed for his tests. It was Tosh who spoke up next.

"Ianto, did it start before or after the first Riftquake?" she asked. Ianto looked at her in surprise.

"After. That night, actually. That was the first one." He glanced at Jack and Owen, then back to Tosh. "But why would a Riftquake give me nightmares?"

"Maybe it's not the quake exactly, but something else related to it that affected you, somehow..." Tosh trailed off, obviously as confused as Ianto. Jack, however, looked hopeful.

"Tosh, help Owen with his tests. Then run some more of your own to see if something from the Rift is causing this." He turned to Gwen. "I want you monitoring everything—inside and outside. You're on call for any more retrievals and will field any calls from local authorities."

"What are you going to do?" asked Gwen. Ianto tried not to listen, because of course he didn't need Jack to stay with him. He didn't want someone holding his hand while Owen took blood and Tosh ran her scanner over him. Yet a part of him was hoping Jack would stay anyway.

"I'm going to go through the CCTV footage," he said. "I like watching Ianto, so I'm going to see if anything got to him over the last few days. If it's Rift-related, it would have happened here at the Hub, and if it's there, I'll find it."

To Ianto's surprise Jack stepped up to him and kissed him on the forehead. "And I will fix whatever is going on," he said softly, left hand caressing Ianto's cheek before he kissed Ianto on the lips, right in front of everyone. He turned to leave before Ianto could react. The other were silent.

"Wow," said Tosh, staring off after Jack. "That was intense."

Owen snorted. "All right, you're all shot up with adrenaline and sedatives, but I can still look for other weird shit in your blood. Give me your arm. Tosh, what's your plan?"

Ianto half listened as Owen took his blood. He suspected the doctor would find nothing of consequence; there was a better chance of Tosh finding something with whatever tests she ran, though what that might be and how it might be giving him nightmares, Ianto couldn't even begin to guess. He wanted to believe that there was something doing this to him other than his own doubts and fears about Jack; it seemed an extreme reaction, after all, to dream and now hallucinate that his lover was killing him over and over. Then again, after Lisa had died, he'd dreamed about being converted more than once. That was quite literal, though; his dreams about Jack were obviously metaphorical. It was almost as if he were trapped in a Shakespearean tragedy.

"Could I be in Hell, like Jack?" he asked, earning a surprised look from Tosh and an eye roll from Owen. "No, listen. These dreams…it's like being in my own personal hell. I feel as if it's real and everything is normal, and then Jack…and then I die. Only I wake up alive, and then it happens again. Could it be something similar, at least?"

Tosh looked thoughtful. "I doubt it. You didn't leave when it happened a little while ago. You were here the entire time. Jack actually left, he was in another dimension."

"But he experienced something similar, his thoughts and fears coming true," Ianto pointed out.

"He tell you what he saw there?" Owen asked. "Because I've tried to make sure he's all right, but he won't talk to me."

"No, he didn't say much," Ianto replied, which was both true and not true. Jack had admitted that he'd seen and done awful things in Hell over the time he'd been trapped there, things he'd realized were representing other issues he needed to work on, but he hadn't said what they were. Ianto knew it was something Jack didn't want to share because it was too private, just like he was not going to tell the others that it was Jack who had been killing him in his dreams. Owen would have a field day.

"I can run tests for some of the same things we saw with the matchbox," Tosh said, but she sounded skeptical. "I don't know if it will help, but if it puts your mind at ease, I'm happy to try."

"Whatever you think is best, Tosh," Ianto replied. "So maybe it's – what? Stress, exhaustion, overwork? Can you prescribe a holiday?" he joked. It fell flat.

"I'd love to, mate," Owen said. "Once I know what's going on. Let's do a brain scan, then Tosh can have you. And then I'd suggest sleeping it off."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "You gave me two shots of epinephrine, Owen. How am I supposed to sleep?"

"I gave you a sedative too," Owen pointed out. "Your hand is still red and swollen so you can't do much with it, and I bet as soon as you get up you'll want to sit down again right away."

Ianto was silent as Owen finished his tests. Then Tosh ran her scanner over him, trying to find something, anything, that might be affecting him. By which point Ianto noticed he was definitely growing tired and didn't really want to get up after all.

"Come on, at least crash on the sofa," Owen said, helping him up. "You can kip off for a few, then we can regroup and see what, if anything, is going on with you."

Ianto nodded and let Owen help him upstairs, still shoeless. As least his socks and trousers were drier, although he still felt distinctly dirty and was fairly sure he smelled like the bog. Glancing at Jack's office, he saw him hunched over in front of the computer screens, watching the Hub CCTV footage intently. Ianto hoped he found something; he didn't want to think it was all in his head.

As soon as he sat down, every last bit of energy left him, and he literally fell to his side, tucking his hands under his head. He heard Tosh fussing over him with a blanket but was too exhausted to do anything more than mumble a thank you. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what new nightmares would plague him, and if he would even wake up this time to battle them.

* * *

Rough hands shook him awake, a grating voice calling his name. Ianto rolled over and ignored it.

"Come on, teaboy. I want to take a look, make sure everything checks out after all those drugs I pumped into you."

Ianto groaned. Owen was waking him up. For the first time in days, Ianto had been enjoying a peaceful dream, and now the gruff doctor was ruining it. Then again, most of his other dreams had started out fine, so maybe he was actually saving Ianto from dying another dream death.

"What time is it?" Ianto asked, rolling back to face the Hub. Tosh was standing with Owen, smiling down at him.

"A little after lunch," she said. "We saved you some pizza, if you're up for it."

Ianto sat up slowly and looked around. "Where are the others?" he asked, wondering in particular about Jack. At least he knew this was real, since by this time in his dreams Jack would have been trying to kill him.

"Lots of Weevils were stirred up by that last Riftquake," Owen said. "We've been busy. You got out of a rather shitty morning."

"And that makes the headache worth it?" Ianto asked, rubbing at his temples. It was like a hangover only worse, complete with nausea. "Is this normal?"

"Could be for you," Owen said. He crouched down and started checking Ianto's vitals—pulse, respiration, eyes. "Or aliens. You went through a lot this morning, so I can't say I'm surprised. If you eat something, I'll give you some painkillers for dessert."

"Deal," said Ianto. "Do I have to get up though?"

Tosh laughed. "I'll bring you some leftover pizza. Do you want me to reheat it?"

"No," said Ianto. "Cold pizza actually sounds perfect."

"No coffee," warned Owen. "We've stressed your system enough with the epinephrine I gave you, so no caffeine. Water and juice."

"All right," Ianto grumbled. "Did you find anything in the tests while I was out of it?"

Owen shrugged. "Not really. You're definitely allergic to shellfish, so you'll want an epi-pen from now on. Your hormone levels were consistent with bad sleep and stress, but other than that, everything checked out. Tosh?"

Tosh sat down next to him with several slices of pizza. "I'm sorry, Ianto, but I can't see any connections between your bad dreams and the Riftquakes, other than that they started right after the first one. Maybe it's a coincidence."

He patted her on the leg and picked up a slice of pizza, surprised at how hungry he was. "It's fine. I wasn't expecting anything. It didn't seem likely, after all." He tried to hide his disappointment with dark humor. "Maybe I'm finally losing it."

"Don't say that," she admonished him. "There must be a reason you're having these dreams, and we'll find it."

Owen had thrown himself into a chair and snorted. "It's the Torchwood death wish."

"Owen!" Tosh exclaimed, and Ianto set down his pizza with a frown.

"I don't _want_ to die working for Torchwood, Owen," Ianto said. "But I am pragmatic enough to know that I will."

"Which is exactly why you're dreaming about it," the doctor said, sounding satisfied.

"Why now?" asked Ianto. "Why so suddenly, so violently? And in the medical bay, what happened there, when I was awake?"

"There's something else going on, Owen," said Tosh, sounding more defensive than Ianto. "You know it."

Owen sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But hell if I can find anything wrong. You haven't found anything with your scans and Jack hasn't found anything on the CCTV yet."

They were silent for a moment as Ianto finished another slice of pizza. After drinking half a water bottle, he continued with his questions. "Did you look at anything to do with the matchbox, Tosh?" he asked. She nodded.

"Jack checked it again, it's safe in the secure archives. But there's been no evidence of any kind of similar energies whatsoever. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, patting her leg. "It's just as important to know what something is not, as to know what it is."

"That's deep," Owen said.

"I try," said Ianto. He leaned back against the sofa, full. "I'm not in Hell and that's a good thing, at least." He bit back a yawn. Why was he tired when he'd slept the morning away?

Owen must have been reading his mind. "It's going to take a while to feel normal," he said. "You might as well take it easy until we need you for something."

Ianto shook his head. "No, I don't want to lay down any more. I want to do something to help. Anything. Otherwise I'll keep thinking about it."

"I'd suggest a shower, then," Owen said, standing up. "You smell like a swamp and it'll wake you up too."

Ianto's heart skipped a beat as he remembered his first nightmare, about being stabbed in Jack's shower. But he could use the communal shower again, like he had after the dream, and Jack was out anyway. It was fine. It was only a dream. He did feel sort of grimy and wouldn't mind a wake-up call. Then maybe he'd do some research in the archives, see what he could find about dreams and hallucinations.

"All right," he said reluctantly. He felt sluggish as he stood, heavier than normal, and moved slowly in his socks toward the showers. "Where are my shoes?" he asked.

"Oh!" said Tosh. "They're down in the medical bay, let me get them." She dashed downstairs and reappeared with his loafers. He didn't bother putting them on, since he'd only get them dirty. With a smile of thanks, he went downstairs to get cleaned up, still puzzling over his dreams, and in particular, what had happened in the medical bay.

He was surprisingly calm as he entered the showers; even though a part of his mind wanted to panic, it didn't. Maybe it was the sedative Owen had given him earlier to stave off the terror of his waking dream in the medical bay. He was also in the communal showers, not Jack's shower, and he'd come out of it fine when he'd cleaned up there the morning after his first nightmare.

In truth, he felt much better about the entire situation now that the team knew, which was ironic for someone like him, who protected his privacy almost aggressively. Normally he would have been mortified that they'd witnessed his hallucination in the medical bay, but instead he felt like their reaction and support proved something else was going on. And they were all trying to figure it out. They had his back, and he knew they would protect him and help him. It was a strange but good feeling.

Stripping off his suit, he grimaced as he noticed the trousers in particular. He'd have to have it dry cleaned, and soon, if he didn't want the mud to set in. He stepped into the shower and enjoyed the feel of the hot water against his back and shoulders first, relaxing muscles tense from the allergic reaction, the shot Owen had given him, and probably worst of all, falling asleep on the sofa. Soap washed away the last of the dirt and bog smell, and he felt his energy returning as he rinsed his hair.

There was a rumbling beneath him, and having felt it earlier that morning, he knew it must be another Riftquake. With a sigh, he turned off the water, also knowing he'd be needed if it was a big one and something else had made its way through. He opened the door, immediately doubling over as the sharp point of a long silver knife plunged into his side.

"Time to die for real this time," hissed a voice in his ear. Ianto glanced into violet eyes and growled his instinctive response.

"Fuck you," he snarled, and grabbed the hand holding the bloody knife before it could strike again. Desperation leant him strength and he forced it away, toward the body holding it, and plunged it deep into tight thigh muscles, leaving it there as he collapsed on the floor.

There was a sound outside the showers. Ianto tried to call out for help, hoping someone heard him. He pulled himself toward his towel and pressed it against his bleeding stomach. Shutting his eyes against the pain, he tried to think straight, so he could do something, save himself. This was real, he wasn't going to wake up in bed shouting this time. If he didn't save himself, no one else would.

But the pain was bad, and there was a lot of blood on the floor, and the adrenaline rush that had allowed him to fight back only moments earlier had now left him drained. He couldn't move, couldn't call out, couldn't even open his eyes. Consciousness was drifting away; he was dying, his blood staining the floor around him. It was worse than his nightmare.

Strong arms lifted him, and he forced himself to open his eyes at least one more time to see if he was facing his attacker or his savior.

"Jack," he whispered, before the darkness claimed him.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I really like messing with my readers. I feel bad for Ianto, though. Thank you for reading! Comments are gold for fanfic writers, as we have no other way of knowing if anyone is reading and enjoying our work. And I'm always happy to answer questions, as long as they don't spoil anything. Next update this weekend. :)


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Jack bounded back into the Hub, hoping Ianto was awake. He didn't like leaving him, even if Ianto had been asleep most of the morning, and even if Jack had retreated to his office and avoided him. He'd been furiously screening the CCTV footage of the past few days, determined to find something to explain what was happening to the Welshman. Because he hated the thought that Ianto was dreaming about him in such a terrible way, and feared what it might mean.

It wasn't hard to see a dozen different meanings behind Ianto's dreams, trained psychiatrist or not. Ianto had dreamed four times now that Jack had killed him. Stabbed him, strangled him, shot him, poisoned him. Though Jack had done nothing, he nevertheless felt a strong sense of guilt. Ianto had tried to pass it off as something he needed to work through, but Jack knew well enough that Ianto wouldn't _have_ to work through anything if Jack were a better partner to him. A better boss, friend, lover, everything. It was his fault that Ianto had such doubts and fears about their relationship, his fault that they were manifesting in Ianto's dreams as nightmares of blood and death.

Or maybe there really was something else going on, which was why he had ordered Tosh and Owen to run their tests, why he had locked himself in the office to find something, anything, on the CCTV that might help mitigate his terrible guilt over putting Ianto through this. Jack wasn't worth it, and if he needed to, he would convince Ianto of that very fact and let him move on to find the type of relationship he deserved. One that didn't give him nightmares.

Then again, Jack didn't want to lose Ianto, and he wasn't sure if he could simply let him go. He needed to find another reason for what was happening. Sometimes he wondered if _he_ wasn't the one trapped in another version of Hell, one where he watched Ianto tortured by thoughts of Jack, where he would have to leave Ianto to save him from a lifetime of nightmares. But he'd checked the matchbox, and Tosh had run her scans, and he was pretty sure it wasn't involved. Which meant something else was going on. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, the Riftquake that morning had been big enough to stir up a number of nearby Weevils. He, Gwen, and Owen had spent the morning chasing them down and tossing them back into the sewers. Then another call had come up after lunch. Jack hoped the rest of the afternoon was quiet, so he could check on Ianto and continue his search of the CCTV footage.

The sofa was empty, which was hopefully a good sign that Ianto was feeling better. Jack hurried over to Tosh's station to ask about him.

"Weevil's back where it belongs," he told her. He inclined his head toward the empty sofa. "Where's Ianto? Is he doing any better? Have you found anything?"

Tosh turned toward him and took off her glasses. "One, he's taking a shower. Two, he had something to eat and seems much better, and three—"

She was interrupted by the Rift alert going off at the same moment Jack felt a rumbling beneath his feet. "Riftquake, another big one," she said, even though it was obvious. Jack held back a groan, wondering when it would end. Moments later the intruder alert went off, stunning them both. Spinning toward another monitor, Tosh frantically tried figure out what was going on.

"We've got a security breach of some sort downstairs," she said, typing furiously. "Near the showers. Jack! Ianto is down there!"

"Code zero," Jack snapped, already running toward the stairs. "Lockdown the Hub. You and Gwen up here, send Owen down with me."

Jack moved as fast as he could toward the showers, his heart racing. He was reminded of the night they'd found Ianto's cybernized girlfriend in the Hub, and hated the fear it brought back, this time compounded by a much deeper relationship with Ianto. Hearing a noise and moving cautiously now with his gun held before him, he stepped into the shower area, searching for any sign of an intruder. Nothing.

"Tosh?" he said quietly into his comm. "There's nothing here."

"I'm not picking it up anymore," she replied, sounding frustrated.

"Stay on alert," Jack replied. "If something came through the Rift, we could be dealing with anything here."

He moved further into the shower area, which was when he noticed the blood. A lot of blood.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, ignoring Tosh's panicked exclamations in his ear, followed quickly by Gwen. "Where's Owen? Ianto's been attacked!"

Jack knelt down next to the Welshman, who had been stabbed once in the side. He had somehow pressed a towel against the wound to try and stop the bleeding, but was barely conscious as Jack lifted him as carefully as he could. He wasn't going to wait for Owen, Ianto clearly needed the medical bay, and fast.

"Jack," Ianto breathed, his eyes slipping closed. Jack had never been so scared in his life. The thought of Ianto dying right there, right then, in his arms almost made his knees buckle, and he stumbled into the corridor to find Owen there, reaching out to support them.

"What the hell happened?" the doctor demanded, lifting the towel to see the wound. "Fuck. Get him upstairs, I need to stabilize him immediately."

Jack swore again and tried to blink back tears as he hurried upstairs. He rushed past Gwen and down into the medical bay, Owen on his heels. Setting Ianto on the cold, hard bed, he ran a hand through the Welshman's hair as Owen dashed around them, covering Ianto's lower body and hooking him up to the machines. Ianto's eyes blinked open as the doctor inserted an IV into his left arm.

"Hey," said Jack, leaning close.

"It wasn't you," Ianto whispered, reaching out with his right hand to take Jack's hand. "I know it wasn't you."

Jack ducked his head and choked back a sob, torn between relief, guilt, and fear. He ignored the puzzled look that Owen gave him and nodded at Ianto.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner, that I didn't—"

"Jack," Ianto said. "You have to stop it."

"What was it?" Jack asked. "What did this?"

Ianto gasped and started coughing. Owen glanced at Jack. "I need to put a mask on him."

Jack nodded and stepped away, but Ianto reached for him again. "Check the cube," he gasped. "It was—"

He lost consciousness, and the monitors above him beeped furiously. Owen swore and shouted. "Gwen! Get your arse down here, you're my new assistant!"

She was there within seconds, her face pale. Jack stepped back, his heart literally in his throat. He stared at Ianto, trying to imagine what his life would be like if Ianto didn't make it, if Owen couldn't save him, if—

"Jack!" Owen snapped. "Get out of here. I'll deal with this, you deal with the bastard that did it. Do you hear me?"

Jack stared at him. It was Gwen who brought him out of it by touching his arm and turning him around, gentle but firm. "Go on, Jack. I'll stay with Ianto and make sure he's all right."

He nodded blankly at her and went up the stairs, still watching Ianto. Owen was scrubbing himself clean for surgery. He grabbed a gown and gloves, dragged over a table of instruments, and began working. Gwen cleaned up, pulled on scrubs and gloves as well, took Ianto's hand, then glanced up at Jack and nodded at him to go. He blew out a breath and turned away; it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

He hurried over to Tosh, placing a shaking hand on her shoulder.

"What've you got?" he asked.

"Nothing!" she said, clearly frustrated and upset. "One minute the sensors were picking up an intruder, the next it was gone."

Jack studied the monitors, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. "Can we get any CCTV from the showers?"

She pulled it up with a few quick keystrokes. Of course the cameras didn't cover the showers themselves, but there was coverage in the rest of the area. Tosh rewound back several minutes and they watched the empty dressing room in silence. Then a strange cloud appeared, materializing into a blurry humanoid form.

"That's not a Rift event," Jack murmured, leaning closer. He swore as he recognized the alien.

Ianto walked into the scene from off screen, and they watched as he was attacked, as the alien wrenched the knife out for another stab, but was stopped by Ianto. Jack couldn't help but feel a rush of pride as Ianto grabbed the alien's hand and plunged the knife into its own leg before collapsing. The alien then disappeared, the knife clattering to the ground.

"What happened?" Jack demanded, reaching over and rewinding the footage.

Tosh was typing furiously, eyeing her other monitors. "I don't know. Teleport of some sort?"

"None I've seen," Jack murmured, watching it again.

"Do you recognize what it is? The alien?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, I do. And Ianto confirmed it."

She turned to him in surprise. "What do you mean Ianto confirmed it? When?"

"In the medical bay," Jack said grimly. "He said to check the cube." He went over to where the cube was sitting on a table, glowing an ominous purple. He reached out to grab it and thought better of it. Tosh appeared beside him.

"You think that alien was a Xrillian?" she asked.

"I know it was," Jack replied. "I killed one right here in the Hub. And just like now, we couldn't figure out how it got in back then either."

"What happened?" asked Tosh. "Maybe it will help."

Jack stared at the cube, trying to remember the details, jogged only by reading the file Ianto had pulled the day before. "Daniel, our tech guy, had been studying an artifact they'd found in the field, this one. I was freelance at that point, in and out, but it was a busy time…" He paused, tilting his head as more memories surfaced.

"Tosh! Can you look and see if there were any Riftquakes in October, 1963?"

She dashed back to her computer and within moments was calling back to him. "According to records we have on file, there were several that month."

"Yes, I remember now," he said quietly, nodding to himself. "That's why I was working so much, the team was run off their feet with stuff coming through, Weevils everywhere, all the usual, just more of it."

"Like now," Tosh said. "We've had Riftquakes every day and the Weevils are starting to come out more and more."

"Now the same alien is running around the Hub," Jack said. He pointed at the cube. "And that must be the connection, but how?"

"What did it look like when you found it in 1963?" asked Tosh. "Was it lit up?"

"I don't know, I didn't find it," said Jack. "One of the retrieval teams brought it in. They said there had been a second one, but it was in pieces. I vaguely remember Daniel working on it, but we were all so busy I don't know how much he really did with it. We had just returned from another retrieval when the alien attacked."

"What happened?"

"It just appeared, kind of like on the CCTV, and snapped Daniel's neck," said Jack. "It went after Alexis next. Sinead grabbed the cube and hit it in the head, and I shot it when it got up to attack again. There wasn't much else to it."

Tosh frowned. "Don't tell me that's why it was labeled a weapon."

Jack shrugged. "I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote that report. She hit him good with it, though. And everyone thought there was a connection."

"What happened to the body?" Tosh asked. "Ianto couldn't find anything on Xrillians in the database."

Jack frowned. "It disintegrated, now that I think about it, so there was no autopsy. It just disappeared. Alexis was sure it had something to do with the cube, so the team ran some tests, found absolutely nothing, and classified it as broken. They were too devastated by Daniel's death to do much more, and anything he might have learned died with him."

"How did they know the alien was Xrillian?" asked Tosh.

"That was me," said Jack. "Never met one, but recognized it from school. Extinct by my time, lots of legends about them, though. Fascinating, really."

"Relevant?" asked Tosh. Jack shrugged.

"Possibly. We can go over it as a team when the others are ready. Right now I want to focus on finding this intruder."

"So the cube was found, there was a Riftquake, the Xrillian appeared," Tosh murmured, gazing off.

"You think the quake has something to do with it?" Jack asked.

"It can't be a coincidence," she replied. "I think Ianto was onto something, that the Rift somehow triggered the cube to activate, and now the cube has something to do with the Xrillian appearing."

"But how?" asked Jack, frustrated. "It's nothing like transporters I've seen.

"And I saw nothing similar to other transport devices we've found," said Tosh. "It's too shielded. Ianto said if it was a weapon it would make sense to be shielded, but maybe it's more than a weapon."

"Like what?" asked Jack.

"Maybe it's a receptacle of some kind," said Tosh, turning toward it with wide eyes. "Maybe the Xrillian is inside."

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the last chapter was real. Which means we'll stay with Jack's point of view for a bit. Thank you for all the great comments, I really appreciate it! And kudos to those of you figuring things out!


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Jack sat by Ianto's side, elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. Machines whirled and beeped, but he didn't hear them, too absorbed in his thoughts. Every time he looked at the man lying in bed, asleep, he saw instead Ianto in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life. And the thought terrified him.

Fear was not something Jack was immune to, in spite of what others may have thought. He felt it all the time, but he was good at pushing it away, or burying it, and getting the job done. Some people might have called it courage, but Jack knew it was pure stubbornness, nothing more. He wasn't going to let anything scare him enough to defeat him. After living as an immortal for over a hundred years, that included death…but only his own, as the thought of those around him dying still frightened him more than anything.

He'd lived through a lot of history with Torchwood, seen so many people come and go, live and die. He'd mourned them all, but most had been no more than passing friends. A few he'd grieved for more…Greg, Lucia, Alex…but it wasn't until he'd taken over, until he'd learned what being a leader and part of a team really meant, that he'd understood how terrifying losing someone he cared about could be.

Suzie had been hard. Yes, she'd gone mad and killed innocent civilians, but she was still someone he'd brought onto the team, had enjoyed working with, and had cared about, albeit in a slightly more detached way than the others. But that was Suzie, aloof and distant. He couldn't imagine losing Tosh or Owen, having also sought them out and introduced them to the dangers of Torchwood. The guilt would be terrible, but more importantly, he would miss them even more—their brilliance, their pain, their warmth and humor. And Gwen…he already felt bad enough for bringing her into Torchwood on such a whim, he'd never forgive himself if it got her killed. And as much as she drove them all mad with her unfailing insistence on doing what _she_ thought was right, he sometimes needed that stubborn persistence and push to make sure he was exploring all his options and not acting spontaneously.

Ianto…god. This was a man Jack could lose himself in, if he let himself. Which was exactly why he didn't, because he knew himself, and he knew Ianto, and he saw the potential for something amazing. It stung, that if Jack wasn't immortal, he could grab hold of that potential and live a long and happy life with Ianto…only who knew how long Ianto's life would really be, working for Torchwood. Jack had forever, but Ianto could be gone in a month, a year. He could have died that day, in Jack's arms.

Jack would be devastated, there was no doubt. And the longer he and Ianto were together…in whatever way they were together, by conventional standards, anyway…the harder it would be when that inevitable day came. Which was why Jack kept his distance most of the time. He suspected that Ianto understood and quite possibly felt the same, but he also suspected that Ianto still longed for something more traditional. Jack hated being the man someone settled for, and he felt like Ianto was settling for him. Why, Jack wasn't sure, but deep down, he was undeniably glad that he got to be with Ianto, though he felt guilty about it. Ianto should be with someone who could give him everything Jack never could.

It was moments like these, when Jack faced losing someone, that he vowed to do better, to be better. And yet…how could he ever be enough?

Jack tried to bring his thoughts to some sort of order, but was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath on the bed before him. Glancing up, he saw Ianto trying to sit, his eyes open but full of pain. Jack jumped up and tried to guide him back down, but Ianto shook his head.

"I want to sit up," he said, his voice rough. "I want to know what's going on."

"You've had major surgery," Jack said. "You shouldn't strain the stitches." Ianto glared at him, a flash of anger passing across his face before he nodded and laid back down.

"What happened?" he asked when he'd settled. Jack pulled his chair closer.

"You were stabbed," he started, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

"I know that," he snapped, and he sounded angry. Jack frowned. Was Ianto mad at him? "I was there, Jack. I felt it. I meant, did you stop it? The alien?"

Jack stared at him, slightly stunned by Ianto's unexpected anger. When he didn't respond, Ianto deflated immediately, fear in his eyes. "Jack? What's wrong? Did it attack someone else? Is everyone all right?"

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Jack nodded. "They're okay, everyone's all right. Even you. Owen stitched you up and said you'll be fine. Complete recovery."

Ianto watched him for a moment, obviously sensing that something else was wrong. "Thank you for finding me," he said. "Were you able to stop it?" He paused. "Was it a Xrillian?"

Jack couldn't help but lean forward and kiss the man. "You're amazing, you know. You're lying here in bed, after being stabbed by an alien intruder, and you're not only more concerned about the rest of the team, but you're curious what actually got you."

"Of course I'm curious," Ianto replied, sounding both defensive and embarrassed. "It all sort of hit me in that moment, when it stabbed me, that it had something to do with the cube."

"How did you put it together?" Jack asked.

"It was the eyes," he murmured in reply, his own going distant with memory. "In every dream I had, your eyes were wrong…violet, not blue. And the cube, the squares kept lighting up violet and purple."

Jack raised a skeptical yet impressed eyebrow. "So you figured it out based on the color purple?"

"It was a hunch, anyway," Ianto replied defensively. "Was I right?"

"Yes, it was a Xrillian," Jack admitted. "But no…we haven't stopped it."

"What?" Ianto exclaimed. "Jack! It could be anywhere! Why are you sitting here, you should be tracking it down!"

"We're working on it," Jack replied. "I'm sitting here because I was worried about you."

"You were getting in Tosh's way, weren't you?" Ianto asked, the hint of a smile appearing around his lips.

"No, I was worried about you, which is why she said I was too jittery to be hanging over her shoulder," Jack grumbled. "Her and Owen were bouncing too much techno-babble back and forth for me to follow. It was annoying."

"How did it get in?" Ianto asked. "And what does it have to do with my nightmares?"

Jack started in surprise. "Your nightmares? What do you mean?"

"When they started, I dreamed I was stabbed in the shower," Ianto replied. "And when it stabbed me, it said 'Time to die for real this time.' It knew."

Jack leaned back, stunned again. That was unexpected. And dangerous. He took Ianto's hand. "The alien disappeared after it stabbed you. We haven't found any trace of it yet, but we have a theory. This might change things, though. Are you up for the others coming down to talk about it?"

Ianto nodded. "But now I definitely want to sit up. And another blanket would be good."

Jack helped him up, got him another blanket, and then gathered the others. They spread out around the medical bay, except for Owen, who hovered around Ianto, checking him over. Ianto endured it impatiently, wanting to start the team meeting.

"So what's this theory?" he finally asked, batting Owen away when he tried to listen to Ianto's chest yet again. Owen rolled his eyes but backed off.

Jack was leaning forward on his knees. He gestured toward Tosh. "It's all Tosh, as usual."

She shook her head. "No, it's not. You recognized the Xrillian."

Ianto didn't appear surprised. "It was in the file, from 1963. You've seen one before."

"I first saw them in the history books when I was in school. They were extinct by the 51st century." Jack blew out a breath. "But we had one here in 1963, when that cube you've been studying was found."

"You shot it," said Ianto, nodding as he tried to think through everything. Gwen, of course, was already frowning.

"It had killed one person already and was going after a second," said Jack. "So yes, I shot it. The Xrillian's body disappeared, we mourned a teammate, and the cube went to the archives. End of story."

"Until it fell off the shelf downstairs and somehow got activated," said Ianto.

"Which was right after the Riftquake," said Tosh. "Jack asked me to look at the records for 1963, and apparently there were several at that time too."

"So we have the device, the Riftquakes, and the alien, exactly as in 1963. It's obviously all connected."

"But how?" asked Gwen from where she was standing by the stairs. "What happened that day, Jack?"

"It was October, 1963," Jack started, leaning back. "It was busy, so I was around a lot helping out. Lots of small Riftquakes, just like this week, which meant more Weevils and retrievals. One of the teams brought back that cube. Apparently there were two, but the other was in pieces. They studied it a bit, though I don't think they got far. Then there was a bigger Riftquake, and we were all out on calls. When we came back, the alien appeared and killed Daniel, our tech guy." Jack paused. "Which is why we don't have any other information on it. If Daniel found anything, it died with him."

They were silent for a moment before Jack continued. "Anyway, it was about to kill Alexis, our medic, when Sinead threw the cube at it and knocked it down. I shot it when it got up and went after her. The alien disappeared, but I'd recognized it as a Xrillian."

There was silence for a moment. Gwen was watching Tosh. "What else, Tosh?" she asked.

"It can't be a coincidence, can it?" she asked. "That we find the cube in the archives, we experience a series of Riftquakes, and then the alien appears? It's all too similar."

"There's more," Ianto spoke up softly from his bed. "It's connected to my nightmares."

"Bollocks," said Owen without thinking, then held up a hand in apology when everyone glared at him. "Sorry. What do you mean, it's connected?"

Ianto took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable about sharing so much. "In my first dream, I was stabbed in the shower. When I stepped out and the alien stabbed me today, it said, 'Time to die for real.' I got the distinct impression it knew about my dreams."

"But how's that possible?" asked Gwen. "They were only dreams."

"Or psychic projections?" suggested Tosh after a moment's silence. "The alien projecting itself into Ianto's dreams?"

Ianto was staring at his hands. Jack wished he didn't have to go through this—the nightmares were bad enough, and then being attacked. Jack knew how hard it would be for Ianto to reveal the true nature of his dreams.

Ianto met Jack's eyes, his face filled with pain and grief. Jack shook his head, but Ianto only sighed sadly.

"It wasn't the alien in my dreams," Ianto said quietly. "I never dreamed about it, not once." Jack hoped that would be it, but of course Gwen couldn't let it lie.

"Who did you dream about, then?" she asked curiously. "Who attacked you in your dreams if it wasn't the Xrillian? And how would it know about them if it wasn't there?"

"It was someone else," Ianto answered, his tone final, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief that Ianto had managed to avoid sharing his secret. "And that's the big question, isn't it? I'm sure it knew about my dreams. Does that mean it simply read my mind at that moment, or did it somehow cause them?"

"I don't know how it could cause them," Tosh said, frowning. "We were thinking the cube is some sort of receptacle, that it was somehow inside the cube, and after the cube was activated by the Rift, it was able to come out. How could it cause your dreams if it was locked up in the cube?"

Everyone was silent, clearly thinking over the puzzle. Ianto, however, started thinking out loud.

"The cube lit up bit by bit. Could we trace each Riftquake to an increase in the cube? And maybe to one of my dreams?"

Tosh looked skeptical, but Jack saw where Ianto was going. "Every time we had a Riftquake, it made the cube stronger—as well as the alien within the cube."

"And so it what?" asked Owen. "Haunted Ianto? Is that where we're going with this?"

Silence again. It was Gwen who spoke next. "Is it possible?" she asked. "That an alien trapped in a box could somehow influence Ianto's dreams?"

Ianto snorted, then grimaced with pain. Owen took a step nearer, but Ianto waved him off. "When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous. But we know there are aliens out there with psychic powers. That one could read my mind and influence my dreams is not unthinkable. That it could do so trapped in a box—"

"Is insane," said Owen. "Even for us. Come on, how is that even possible?"

"Jack," said Tosh, when no one answered. "What did you learn about the Xrillians in school? You said there were legends about them."

Jack laughed nervously, earning him that look from Ianto that called him on it even whilst showing concern. He offered a sheepish smile and answered honestly. "It was a long time ago, you know," he started, then sighed. "And I wasn't the best student. All I remember is that they died out due to some sort of illness, a plague of some sort. Sudden and devastating."

"Were they psychic?" asked Ianto. Jack shook his head.

"I don't know. The big lesson about Xrillians was that they all got sick and died, and it was held up as an example of how not to manage planetary epidemics."

"What did the legends say about them?"

Jack tried to remember and hoped he wasn't mixing up his stories. "If I remember correctly, it was said that they would return one day. Legend had it that they had somehow preserved their culture and would rise again, stronger than before." Jack shrugged. "That's all I remember, sorry."

"But that's it!" Tosh exclaimed, and Ianto was nodding as if agreement. Gwen exchanged a look with Jack.

"What is?" she asked. Jack was glad, as he didn't want to be the one who hadn't figured it out.

"If our theory about the alien being inside the cube is true, it could explain the legend," Tosh said. "Maybe they created the cubes to preserve their culture, storing the essence of their people in them."

"Oh my god, do you think there's more than one in the cube?" asked Gwen. She looked horrified, and again Jack had to agree. The thought of more aliens escaping from the cube was too dire to imagine.

"I don't know," said Tosh, sounding apologetic. "I can't get any readings on it. But I doubt it. It would seem too easy to get everything mixed up inside, at least to my 21st century thinking."

"Hang on," said Owen, stepping forward. "If these things hid in a box to escape a plague, and one of them got out and stabbed Ianto, does that mean we need to start a quarantine? Because I do not want an alien plague from the future on my hands."

Jack swore under his breath, leaning back in his chair again and running a hand through his hair. Owen had a valid point, as well as a terrifying one. And it only added to the concerns already on their plate—the Riftquakes, Ianto's nightmares, the attack by an alien that could still be in the Hub, and now the potential for a deadly disease.

Ianto, however, did not seem as worried. He shook his head, drawing everyone's attention. "I doubt it's infected. Think about it. If they were trying to preserve their race for some sort of glorious return, why put the sick ones into the cubes? They would come out sick and restart the plague."

"We've done it with cryo-freeze," Owen pointed out. "Think about Beth. We couldn't help her, so we decided to freeze her until a time when someone could. Maybe that's what these Xrillians did."

"We weren't trying to preserve the human race, though," said Ianto. "We were hoping to save one life. We assumed in the future there would be more advanced humans around to help her. If the entire planet were at risk for extinction due to a plague, would you want to freeze sick people or healthy people to restart the human race?"

"Ianto has a point," Jack said before Owen could argue more. "But we still need to take precautions. We'll stay on strict lockdown with quarantine procedures for the Hub in place. In the meantime, we need to figure out what to do about this cube and the alien we think is inside it." He paused and looked at each of them. "If that's even the case here."

"I think Tosh has a good theory," said Ianto. "It makes sense, at least as far as science-fiction serials go."

"How did it get into your dreams then?" asked Gwen, either ignoring Ianto's joke or more likely not understanding it. "And why? What's the connection there?"

"We don't know if they're a psychic race, right?" asked Ianto, and Jack shook his head, wishing he knew more about what they were dealing with. "Assume they are then. Because somehow this thing knew about my dreams, I'm sure of it. If one was preserved inside the cube, my guess is that with each Riftquake, it somehow grew stronger and was able to project its thoughts outside. It affected my dreams."

"But why?" asked Jack, watching Ianto closely. He was reluctantly impressed with the man's line of reasoning, even though so many questions remained unanswered. "Why you?"

"Because I found it?" Ianto replied after a moment. "Perhaps touching the cube created some sort of connection that it used? If the alien is responsible and psychic—and I think it is, from my encounter with it—then maybe it was able to establish a connection, read my mind, and knew exactly what kind of dreams would rattle me the most."

"Getting killed over and over," said Owen. He blew a raspberry. "We face death every week. Why would it pick that?"

"Because it was always someone I cared about who killed me," Ianto replied, his voice surprisingly strong. Jack couldn't look at him, and stared at the floor. He felt the others staring at him, though, as if they knew, and he had to return to the conversation.

"So we think this alien read your mind and created these dreams, but the question is still why?" asked Jack. "What purpose does it serve?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "To hurt _you_ , of course. To watch someone _you_ care about suffer."

Jack frowned. The others said nothing, exchanging uncomfortable looks with one another. They didn't know the full extent of Ianto's dreams. They didn't know that Ianto had dreamed over and over that it was _Jack_ who killed him. They didn't understand how much Ianto's statement made sense—and much it indeed hurt.

"So it tortured you to get to me?" Jack asked slowly. Ianto smiled, that dangerous yet sexy smile that Jack knew meant something was coming.

"Did it work?" asked Ianto. "Do you feel bad, Jack?" His voice was dripping with scorn.

"What?" asked Jack.

"It used me," said Ianto. He laughed bitterly. "Of course it did. I suppose I should be flattered, that this creature actually believed you might care enough to feel any pain at my expense."

"Ianto," Jack started. "That's not what this is about, of course I—"

"Of course you do," said Ianto. "Why wouldn't you? I do everything you want, including quite literally bending over backward for you. Which wasn't as great for me as it was for you, by the way." He rolled his eyes. "I make your coffee and do your paperwork and offer blind faith and blowjobs without cost or commitment. Of course you love it—who wouldn't love that kind of arrangement with unlimited forgiveness for each and every transgression?"

Jack stared at Ianto, his heart racing in his chest. The image of Ianto in Hell, in the conference room with his shirt off and arms around another man, flashed across his mind, and he shook his head, trying to forget it, to forget Ianto's harsh words to him. He trusted Ianto, Ianto didn't believe that, wouldn't say those things…

"Tosh!" he shouted, turning away from where Ianto was sitting on the bed grinning coldly at him. "The matchbox! This isn't real, get me out!"

"Jack," Ianto sing-songed behind him. "It's as real as it gets. It used me to get to you, even though we both know it would never work."

"I'd do anything to save you!" Jack whispered, pressing his hands to his temple, trying to drown out the horrible words, the even more damning implication. "This isn't you! Tosh! Help me!"

"Jack!" called a familiar voice. A gentle hand touched his arm and he jumped, whirling on Gwen. She took both his hands in his. "Jack, look at me. You're all right... you're here at the Hub, with us, and it's real."

He shook her off and backed away. "No, it's not. It's couldn't be, because Ianto wouldn't…he'd never…" He trailed off at the look on Gwen's face, then turned toward the bed.

Ianto was sitting there, pale and upset, his face a mask of sad understanding. "It just got to you, didn't it?" he asked.

"Oh god," said Jack, and he sank back into his chair and collapsed with his head in his hands. "Not again."

"What happened?" asked Gwen, moving closer. Once again, Jack waved her away, remembering his visceral reaction to her when he'd been trapped in Hell. It had been a gross exaggeration and he'd been influenced by the matches, but he couldn't deny it was something picked up from his subconscious. Yes, sometimes Gwen drove him mad with her poking and prodding and blind bleeding heart. He didn't need that right now. He needed Ianto…

But no. Ianto didn't care about him. Ianto was scared of him. Ianto had dreamed over and over that Jack murdered him. Why had he even saved Jack from Hell? What was the point now that Jack knew the truth?

"Jack!" Ianto snapped. "It wasn't real. You didn't go anywhere, so whatever it was, whoever you saw, _it wasn't real_."

"I know," Jack whispered. But he didn't, not really. It was like being in Hell all over again, not knowing reality from dreams.

"Tosh," he heard Ianto say in a take-charge voice that belied the fact that he'd just had major surgery. "We need to figure out a way to block this from happening. Is the cube in the containment box?"

"Owen and I were looking at it earlier," she said. "But yes, we put it back when we came down here."

"Damn." Jack glanced up and saw Ianto scrub his hands over his face. "Is there anything else we can do to block it? Or can you come up with something?"

Tosh appeared skeptical. "I don't even know what it's doing, it'll be hard to stop it when I don't know what to stop!"

"Try," said Ianto. "Because if it starts messing with the rest of the team, we are well and truly—"

"Right," she said, standing up. "I'm on it."

"Jack," started Owen, but Jack stopped him.

"I'm fine."

"You did the same thing Ianto did this morning," Owen stated flatly. "And from the way you were shouting at Tosh to get you out, it sounds like you flashed back to your time in Hell."

"If the alien is reading our minds," Ianto said quietly, "it makes sense it would pick up on Jack's most recent experiences."

"Then why does it keep making you think someone is out to get you?" Owen demanded. "Are you really that paranoid and just good at hiding it?"

Ianto's eyes flashed, but Jack jumped in to stop any retort, as Ianto had intervened for him. "It's none of your business, Owen. Think about how to help us rather than make it worse."

"I'm not trying to make it worse," Owen replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I feel like we're missing something here... Why Ianto? Why you? Why are people killing him? Why are you back in Hell?"

"It's the alien messing with us," said Jack, stomping down on his own insights. He noticed Ianto frowning, as if he'd come to his own conclusions about the strange connection affecting them. "And as it's an alien, I'm not sure there's a rhyme or reason to it."

"Owen has a point, though, Jack," Gwen pointed out. Jack had forgot she was even there. He braced himself.

"And what's that?" he asked. She stepped closer, glancing between him and Owen.

"If we can figure out why it targeted Ianto and now you, maybe we can figure out a way to stop it before it targets someone else."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Not exactly what I was thinking, but close enough."

Gwen gave him an irritated look before returning to her line of thinking. "It's motive, Owen. If we understand the motive, we can better understand the perpetrator, find them, and stop them."

"This isn't a cop case, Gwen," said Jack, shaking his head. "This is alien. There are species out there so different from us that trying to understand their motivation is like trying to understand why the Prime Minister likes ABBA. It's not possible."

"That doesn't mean we can't try," Gwen insisted. Jack geared up for a response, but Ianto stopped him.

"Gwen, it's a sound theory, for earth-based cases," he said. "However, this is a potentially psychic alien using some kind of alien device we can't even get a reading on."

"We can still—" she began, and he nodded as he interrupted her.

"You're right, we can. And I know how to start. Can you go to the archives and start researching anything we have on psychic species?"

She frowned. "I thought we didn't have anything on Xrillians."

"We don't," said Ianto. "But sometimes reading around the issue will still help. Any small scrap of information could be useful. Database search for psychic powers, dreams, hallucinations—anything like that should get some hits, especially if you include the Torchwood One database."

She sighed. "I can try. What about Owen?"

"I'm going to keep an eye on my patients," he said. Gwen nodded and turned to go, laying a hand on Jack's arm and nodding at Ianto. When she'd left, Owen pointed a finger at Ianto.

"You sent her on a wild goose chase."

Ianto shrugged and started to lay down again. "Maybe. Or maybe she'll find something useful. It's better than trying outdated police tactics on aliens."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," said Owen. "Plus it will give me a chance to go back to my point. What's really going on here with these dreams and visions? Because I know there's something you're not telling us."

Ianto pulled the blanket up and closed his eyes. "It's still none of your business, Owen."

"But is it important?" Owen pressed. "Something to do with whatever's going on? Because we're all a part of this now. We need to know."

"You really don't," Jack said wearily. "It's enough to know that this alien is using our thoughts and fears against us. You don't need to know our thoughts and fears, and I don't need to know yours."

Owen was silent for a moment, chewing his thumb. "Fine. I get it. But I highly suggest you two talk it out on your own. I'm not blind, Jack. You're the one who keeps killing Ianto in his dreams, and whatever happened to you in Hell has to do with him. So figure it out. I'm going to go help Tosh."

And with that he left Jack alone with Ianto, both of them unable to meet the other's eyes.

"He's right, you know," Ianto said softly. "In order to figure this out, we might have to lay it all on the table." He sighed. "As much as we don't want to."

Jack nodded. It was terrifying, but so was the thought of slowly losing his grip on reality. It was time to face what his time in Hell really meant, and why Ianto kept dreaming of death.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments on this, I'm so glad to know that yes, it is sort of scary. That's what I was going for, the sense of not knowing what's real and what's fake. Just wait until the next chapter! Look for it in a few days, with fair warning that it may be the darkest yet…


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Neither one of them spoke for over five minutes. Jack was wrapped up in his own thoughts, once again remembering his time in Hell and the awful things he'd seen and done there. He'd killed both Gwen and Ianto, shooting one and sending the other into the shadows. In both cases he'd been goaded to it by gross exaggerations of their character and his feelings about them, yet it didn't make it any easier knowing he'd still been capable of murdering two people he cared about.

Gwen's insistent mothering and grating bossiness had driven him to pull out his gun and shoot her. He'd known it was the matches but couldn't resist; it was like he'd snapped and couldn't take it anymore—the constant pushing, questioning, doubting, manipulating. Because that was Gwen at her lowest, and there were times that it drove Jack mad. She refused to back off because she still couldn't understand the reality of Torchwood, or him, even when she claimed to know so much. He'd regretted killing her immediately, of course, had been devastated to hold her dead body in his arms. And he'd gone straight to Ianto for help.

Ianto, the man he knew loved him, the man he loved in return. That scene had been harder to see and accept.

He'd walked in on Ianto with another man, Darren Sowisby, kissing and caressing in the conference room. It had been shockingly out of character, but more than that was the almost instant realization that it _bothered_ him to see Ianto like that, with someone else. And when the other version of Ianto had thrown it in his face, that it wasn't as if Jack didn't go around flirting and kissing and carrying on, Jack understood how hypocritical it was of him to feel that way. With that second insight came a flood of guilt, that he had driven Ianto into Darren's arms with his own behavior, behavior that had hurt Ianto.

But then it had got worse: Ianto wasn't finding refuge in another man to mend his broken heart, he'd been using Darren to get back at Jack. And he'd been using Jack to have revenge for Lisa. He'd seduced Jack, earned Jack's trust and affection, only to betray him both physically and emotionally, and then force him to do the one thing that hurt more than any other. Jack had opened the matchbox and sent Ianto to Hell. He'd had no choice. He'd been compelled, he couldn't resist, and on top of the knowledge that Ianto had used and betrayed him, he then bore the burden of having killed the man he loved.

Which was the crux of it all, wasn't it? Admitting that he cared for Ianto. He tried to show it in small ways, but allowing himself to grow emotionally close and actually express it was not something he was willing or able to do. He kept it to himself because it was easier that way. Denial was a powerful tool for self-preservation, and as Jack had all of eternity to muddle through, his instinct for self-preservation was strong. Though it was not as strong as his ability to love.

It was why he was here, still fighting both, and with Ianto dragged into it somehow as well: as much as Jack tried to protect his heart, still it longed for more.

Ianto's nightmares were fairly obvious in meaning: he was scared that Jack would hurt him. Maybe not literally kill him as Jack had done in the Welshman's dreams, but hurt him in some other way. Because that's what Jack—and what Torchwood—did. It hurt people. Of course Ianto was scared of that, he'd be a fool not to have his doubts and fears about being involved with Jack. It was why Ianto would be better off without him. He needed safety and commitment. He needed someone to go home to like Gwen had Rhys, and Jack was not that man.

But how he wished he _was_ that man.

"Jack?" asked Ianto, and he finally looked up to meet the other man's eyes. Ianto was pale; he looked tired and almost as nervous as Jack felt at that moment.

Jack sat up straighter. "Right. Time to figure this out."

Ianto sighed. "Look, we really don't need to have some sort of heart-to-heart. That's not…well, that's not us. Just because Owen said—"

"Owen might be right," Jack interrupted. "It could be relevant, could help us figure this out."

"And like you said, it's enough to know that this alien is using our thoughts and fears against us. We don't need to know what those are to fight it."

"But—" Jack started, and this time Ianto interrupted him.

"I don't need to know," he said firmly. "But we do need to understand why it's targeting us, and if it's possible that one of the others might be targeted next."

Jack met his eyes and held them for a moment. "Do you think so?" he asked, knowing his own thoughts about the situation and their role in it.

Ianto frowned and looked away. Finally he shook his head. "I have no reason to, but I think it's about us, somehow. It feels personal."

In spite of his experience in Hell, Jack trusted Ianto. Deep down he believed the Welshman would not betray Jack to deliberately hurt him, and he trusted the Welshman's instincts when it came to the work they did. In the end, this was a case, and Ianto's intuition and experience had proven right countless times. He'd been wrong other times, certainly; but something inside Jack agreed. The nature of their visions felt too deliberate. Whatever was happening, it was happening to Jack and Ianto, and it was happening to them for a reason.

Jack took a deep breath. He might not share his deepest thoughts and feelings, but he had to say something. "Earlier, when it had me, you…or rather, the alien…suggested that it was using you to get to me."

Ianto blinked twice, the only sign of surprise Jack noticed. Then he nodded. "Makes sense, I suppose. But it could have been any of us, then. It targeted me for the bad dreams. I can only think it's because I touched it first in the archives."

"Maybe," said Jack. This was hard. It was like talking over rocks, the words constantly sticking in his throat, refusing to give voice to his fears. "Or maybe it knew that hurting you would hurt me."

"Jack, that's true for the entire team," Ianto protested. "It's more likely I was the easiest mind to pick-pocket since I'm the one who was there when it first activated."

Jack hung his head. "If we're even half right about a psychic alien manipulating our thoughts, I don't think that's it. Yes, you were there and you picked it up, but you are also…god, Ianto…you are the one person I…the one I don't want to see hurt, more than any of the others. So it hurt you, in order to hurt me. I think that's why this is happening."

Ianto did not respond, though Jack was sure that the other man's thoughts were racing behind his eyes. "What are you thinking?" he whispered. Ianto blew out a long breath before replying. He did not look at Jack as he spoke.

"It haunted me with visions of being killed, always by you. Stepping into the shower to stab me, pinning me to the bed and strangling me. And it was horrible, every one." His voice cracked and he took a slow breath. "There were times when I wondered if I…if it wasn't going to work out anymore…us, that is…that maybe we'd need to end things, because the nightmares were so vivid, so terrifying. I knew it would never happen for real, but I also thought I'd never get a good night's sleep again." He offered a wan smile at the end, since sleep was the last of their concerns now.

"Which makes sense," Jack said, trying sound professional, though he felt worse than ever, knowing Ianto had considered ending their relationship. "If this alien is trying to hurt me, and it can read our minds, then maybe it went after you to try and drive a wedge between us before actually attacking you."

"But _why_?" Ianto sighed, closing his eyes. "It still doesn't make sense."

"It's alien," said Jack. "It may never make sense. But if it's after me, then we have something to work with."

"How does that give us something to work with?" Ianto asked with a short laugh. "Do you have any idea why a forty-five-year-old alien stuck in a purple box would want to hurt you?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Jack tried to smile and failed. "No, of course not." He looked away and was silent. His instinct told him he was right, but he couldn't imagine any reason _why_ the Xrillian might want to hurt him.

"Maybe it's pissed off at you," Ianto offered, sounding slightly bitter and almost flippant. "God knows it wouldn't be the first alien—or former boyfriend—to come back and wreak havoc. You do have a colorful history, after all."

"The Xrillians were dead and gone by my time," Jack protested with a frown. "I'd never met one until it showed up in the Hub and killed one of the team."

"So you shot it," Ianto pointed out. "Maybe that's why, maybe it didn't like being shot, and then left on a shelf for decades, all alone in the dark."

"Maybe," Jack agreed, though he was confused by Ianto's sudden change in attitude.

"Maybe it didn't like you destroying the other cube," Ianto continued. His face had taken on a hard quality, and his eyes…Jack wasn't sure about his eyes. It didn't look or sound like Ianto anymore, and yet Jack couldn't stop listening. "Maybe that second cube was important."

"What?" Jack asked. "We didn't do anything; it was in pieces when they found it. It went right into the incinerator."

"Brilliant. So you not only broke it, killing whatever was inside, but then you burned it to a crisp. That sounds like motivation to me."

"Ianto!" Jack exclaimed. "Where are you getting this? We didn't break it, the Rift did. We had nothing to do with it."

When Ianto grinned, it was all teeth, and it was ugly. Jack was about to call for Tosh, or Owen, but was left stunned and speechless as Ianto slowly brought his feet over the side of the bed, took out the IV in his left arm, and walked over to him, heedless of the thin line of blood dripping onto the floor. He stopped inches from Jack's face.

"If you want to know what's going on, I suggest you listen to me," he said in a low voice that made Jack shiver, but for all the wrong reasons. "You killed its mate, and now it's going to torture and kill yours."

"My mate?" Jack asked, stumbling back from Ianto's aggressive posture. The Welshman rolled his eyes.

"I don't know why it thinks I'm all that, but it's too late to stop it now. Thanks for getting me involved, Jack," Ianto snapped. He held up his bleeding arm, wiped the blood onto the floor, and limped another step closer, holding his side. "It thinks you care about me, and now I'm a target. Dreams and nightmares and being stabbed. I knew Torchwood would be the death of me, but I didn't think it would be you personally, Jack."

"No," said Jack, shaking his head. He kept moving backwards, and Ianto kept moving closer, until Jack stumbled over the steps and fell. He scrambled away on hands and knees, but Ianto crouched down next to him, his voice practically a growl, his eyes blazing.

"You know it's true. It's your fault, it's _always_ your fault. Even if you did love me, which we all know you don't, you still got me into this mess, so what's the point? Love conquers all?" Ianto shook his head in mock sadness before smashing one hand against the other. "Bullshit! I suppose it's bad enough that it ends so soon for you when you have all of eternity. Now you have to consign us mere mortals to torture, too? How is that fair?"

"It's not," Jack whispered. "It's never fair. I hate it."

"So do I!" Ianto snarled, pushing Jack over to land on his bottom. "It's time to end it, once and for all. You're going to hurt me one day, Jack. I know it. It's my deepest fear, that you'll leave again. Maybe you'll leave Wales, or Earth all together. Maybe you'll move on to someone younger, smarter, prettier—parade them around right in front of me. But you will leave, I know that. It's inevitable. And I will shatter into a thousand more pieces than I did when Lisa died. Why do you think it gave me those dreams? Because it saw what's in my heart! So end it! I don't want to go through this anymore!"

"No...no, I can't… I won't," Jack babbled, reaching out for Ianto, who slapped him away. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a small voice telling him this was wrong, this was fake, this was the alien manipulating him again, he was back in Hell. Only everything Ianto had said was _right_. It was what Jack had been thinking for so long, what Jack felt every time he allowed someone to grow close. Every time he fell in love. They would die, and he would not, so he kept his distance and ended up hurting them, every time.

"Jack," Ianto said, and he leaned over Jack, arms on either side of his head, and stared deep into Jack's eyes. "I love you. You know that. How could I not? Yet how can I keep doing this? Ex-boyfriends who try to kill us, former lovers you sleep with before they disappear into time, mayoral assistants who snog you like the world's ending, bartenders who slip you their phone numbers, co-workers who fuck you with their eyes." Ianto no longer appeared angry, but looked so sad that Jack felt the guilt crushing him down. "I deserve better, and that's not even mentioning all the times you've fucked up and got one of us hurt on the job. I'm tired of it. It's not worth it."

Of course it wasn't. _Jack_ wasn't worth it. He was worthless. Ianto was right about all of those things. Why did Ianto put up with them? Why did Ianto bother going out with him, sleeping with him? Okay, maybe the sex was great, yet the emotional return was nothing but pain and heartache. Ianto had admitted he loved Jack, and yet Jack knew he could never, ever say the same, no matter how strongly he felt it deep down in the part of his soul he couldn't deny. He would hurt Ianto, over and over, with his continued denial, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"You sent me to Hell before," Ianto whispered into his ear. He turned his head and kissed Jack on the lips, soft and sweet. "Send me to heaven now. I'm done hoping and tired of fighting."

Jack felt the cold metal of his Webley being pressed into his hand. Ianto stood up and offered his hand. Jack stood before him, his breathing quick, his hand shaking. This wasn't happening. It wasn't real. He told himself over and over again, and yet…it felt so real. It made so much sense. Ianto's nightmares might have been metaphor for his fears, but this was the truth of their reality. Jack was already hurting Ianto and would only hurt him more. He should end the Welshman's suffering; Ianto didn't deserve the pain of being with Jack. No one did.

Jack raised the gun, released the safety. Tears fell from his eyes. This was worse than being in Hell. This was all him, and him alone, and he was about to shoot the man he loved to save Ianto from the heartbreak of being with Jack. The world was a cruel place, and Jack hated it.

Jack was done with it. He pulled the trigger.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about that. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it just happened; it practically typed itself. I had no idea the story would take this kind of turn when I started it. Still, if you know my stories, you know I am generally an optimist and a loyal fan of Jack and Ianto. So have faith; I don't think it will get much worse than this. I plan to update after the weekend, and do hope you will not give up on this story! Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

10.

Jack awoke in the last place he expected: his bed. He came to quietly; there was no gasping intake of breath, no sense of pain or panic. It was as if he'd been asleep and was simply waking up after a very long night.

He hoped so. He hoped it had all been a dream, that he would open his eyes and find there'd been no Riftquakes, no nightmares, no stabbing, no shooting. He'd see Ianto next to him, alive and healthy, not recovering from both mental and physical trauma. And he'd tell him everything, in order to be rid of the crushing fear and guilt.

As he opened his eyes and gazed upward, he felt the press of a warm body against his and turned to find Ianto beside him, also staring at the ceiling. A single light was on, and Jack could see the furrows between the man's brows, the sad look of worry in his eyes.

"Hey," Jack murmured, not sure what else to say, how to start this particular conversation. Ianto glanced sideways at him and offered a small smile.

"Hey," Ianto replied. Jack took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said. He would never be able to say it enough.

"I know," said Ianto, his voice tired, defeated. Jack hated that it was his fault.

"What…what happened?" he asked. "I mean, other than the obvious."

"We're really not sure," Ianto replied. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Other than the obvious."

Jack reached for Ianto's hand and was relieved beyond measure when Ianto not only let him, but held on tight. He turned so that he was on his side and could see Ianto, his eyes still shut, and laid his other hand on Ianto's chest. Ianto was wearing some of Jack's casual clothing, a pair of sleeping pants and a long sleeve shirt, while Jack was stripped down to his shorts and tucked beneath his blankets.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

A deep breath rattled under Jack's hand. "I've seen you die before, Jack," Ianto replied. "But not by your own hand." His eyes flew open, bright and angry. "And I don't ever want to see that again."

"I know," Jack replied, hanging his head. "I'm sorry, I tried so hard to resist, but I couldn't…"

"What happened?" Ianto asked. "Why did you do it?"

"It was the Xrilian," Jack began, and Ianto nodded.

"We gathered as much. But why…why would it force you to shoot yourself? If it can read our minds, it must know you can't die."

"Probably," Jack agreed. Now it was his turn to stare at the ceiling, as he laid back down to avoid Ianto's eyes. "But it wanted me to shoot you."

Ianto was silent for a long moment. "So it was trying to make my nightmares come true," he finally said. "It's after me and we have no way of stopping it."

"No, it's after me," said Jack. "It wants…look, in the medical bay, what happened? When did I go out? I don't remember how much we talked, what was real and what was fake."

"We were trying to figure out why it might be after you," Ianto said. "You sort of stopped and stared at me, as if you were thinking or listening, and then you took out your gun. Before I could get out of bed to stop you, you put it to your temple and pulled the trigger." He turned his head toward Jack, his eyes unbearably sad. "It was horrifying."

"It was so hard to resist what it really wanted me to do, and it seemed the only way to stop it," Jack replied. He frowned as he realized something. "Why did it take so long for me to revive?"

"When you revived you were completely hysterical. Apparently not unlike I was after my own waking episode, so Owen knocked you out." Ianto sighed. "It's been less than an hour. We brought you down here so he could clean up the medical bay. I did my best for you. But why did it want you to shoot me? To finish what it started?"

"Revenge." Jack laughed bitterly. "I shot it. I locked it away in the dark. And it thinks I killed its mate."

Ianto did not reply at all, and Jack wondered if he'd come to the right conclusion, that this thing was after them because it believed Ianto was Jack's mate. He wondered what Ianto would think about that, if he'd be angry, or exasperated, or in complete denial. But Ianto was silent.

When Jack finally chanced a look at him, he saw Ianto staring blankly at nothing, his eyes flicking back and forth, his breathing quick and shallow. Jack laid a hand on his shoulder, but Ianto did not respond. And that's when Jack knew: Ianto was in another waking nightmare. The Xrillian was really stepping up its attacks.

How did he break it? He shook Ianto, then tapped his cheek several times, all with no response. Ianto did not even look at him, though after a moment he shut his eyes tight and moaned. It must have been bad. Jack did the only other thing he could think of: he leaned down and kissed Ianto, caressing him as he did, hoping the physical sensation might distract him enough to pull him out of the dream.

It worked. With a gasp, Ianto's arms came up and around Jack's shoulders, pulling him tight as he returned the kiss fiercely. It was short, though, and soon enough Ianto was pulling away, though his hands stayed around Jack's neck.

"You're still here," he whispered, his fingers running through Jack's hair.

"Of course I am." Jack ran a hand across Ianto's cheek, wondering what he had seen. "We have to figure out a way to stop this."

"Tosh is working on it," Ianto replied as he sagged back down onto the bed. "She suggested we go to my flat, thinking we'd be out of range, but Owen's still worried about contagions."

"It would only leave the rest of the team at risk," Jack replied, shaking his head. He rolled over onto his back, pulling Ianto with him and wrapping his arms around the other man as tightly as he could without hurting Ianto's injured side.

"It's not after them," Ianto replied. "It's after us."

"Me," said Jack.

"Through me," said Ianto. Jack sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing," Ianto said. "It's not your fault, you know."

Jack laughed slightly hysterically. "That's not what you said in the medical bay."

"When it had you?" Ianto asked, and Jack nodded. "That wasn't me. Whatever I said or did, that wasn't me."

"I know. What about you? What happened just now?" Jack asked after a slight hesitation. "Another death? Because that wasn't me either."

"I know," Ianto replied, his voice quiet. "But you didn't try to kill me this time. You left." There was almost no hesitation in admitting the nature of the vision this time. It was as if after all they'd been through that week there was no reason to hold back and hide it anymore. "You ran away. From everything, everyone—from Torchwood, from Earth."

"I'm not leaving," Jack replied. "I promise."

"Jack," Ianto sighed. "I know you're not going to leave right now, but don't make promises you can't keep in the future. We all know you're not from this planet, this time. There's nothing keeping you here now that you've found your Doctor and had your answers. It could be next year, it could be next week."

Jack was hurt. He hadn't realized Ianto had so little faith in him. But then, this was what the other Ianto, the dream one, had admitted and revealed. He wasn't scared of actually being killed by Jack, he was scared of being hurt. And Jack knew how much being left behind could hurt.

"Is that what you're so afraid of?" Jack asked. "That I'm going to hurt you and leave?" Ianto did not answer, and Jack sighed, pulling him tighter. "I'm not making promises I can't keep. I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to leave you."

When Ianto still did not reply, Jack continued. "Ianto, when I was—"

"Stop," Ianto said abruptly, pulling away. He gingerly sat up, distancing himself from Jack. He felt it acutely, the loss of contact and comfort when he needed it most. "I thought we told Owen we didn't need to know the grim details."

"I want to help, though," Jack replied, sitting up as well. "To make sure you—"

"That I what?" asked Ianto. "I don't need your help, Jack. It's something I have to deal with on my own."

"But you don't have to!" Jack exclaimed, trying to catch his eye and failing. "You can talk to me. You can—"

"Don't be a hypocrite," Ianto said, though there was no bitter rancor to his tone. "You can't expect me to share everything, accept your support, when you offer nothing, accept nothing in return. It's…well, it's unfair."

"Oh." Jack breathed out, feeling like he'd been kicked in the gut.

"And I get it, I do," Ianto continued, either ignoring or not seeing Jack's reaction. "I don't like sharing either, talking about these sorts of things. I hate how…how exposed I feel right now, how vulnerable now that you know even this much about me and what's going on inside my head. I know why you like keeping your secrets, because I do too. It's safer that way."

Ianto had seen through everything about him, and acknowledged he felt the same. Jack felt a sense of wonder and affection, that this man had bravely admitted so much, as well as guilt and dismay, that Ianto was so willing to accept it, bury it, and move on. He deserved better. Maybe that was why Jack had left in Ianto's waking nightmare. To give Ianto a chance at a better, happier life. Perhaps even a normal life away from Torchwood, and certainly away from him. Jack wondered if deep down Ianto wanted Jack to leave.

"It's probably safer if you do," Ianto said, breaking Jack's train of thought. "Leave, that is." He didn't sound upset at all, but almost nonchalant about it. Jack felt his heart clench. "I know you think about it. You have no obligation to me, you know. And as you being here and me being in your bed has almost got me killed several times, it might be better for us all if you left."

"I said I'm not leaving!" Jack exclaimed. "Stop trying to get me to leave. That's not the answer."

"Why not?" Ianto asked, a bitter grin twisting his face. "You don't love me, and we both know you'd never say it even if you did. Besides, you killed my girlfriend. You tried to kill _me_ , Jack. Why are you still here, with me? There's nothing for you here, not anymore!"

"No," said Jack, shaking his head and refusing to believe Ianto's words. "I'm not leaving earth, and I'm not leaving Torchwood."

"You might as well," said Ianto. "Before one of us uses you again, breaks your heart. Go, before it's too late."

"I'm not leaving you!" Jack heard the desperation in his voice. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Why should I believe you, Jack?" he asked. "After all you've said and done, what faith do I have that anything you say is real? The truth?"

The truth. Jack swore and jumped out of bed as he realized what was happening. He was trapped in his own waking nightmare again. But how to break the vision, without killing himself as he had in the medical bay?

"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real," he chanted to himself over and over. He heard Ianto, laughing at him from the bed, and slumped down into the corner, burying his head in his hands to drown out the sound. He repeated his mantra, pinched himself, did everything he could think of to break out of it. Finally he stood up and roared his defiance to the room. "I'm not leaving you! Not until you leave me first!"

Collapsing back onto the floor, he hugged his knees to his chest until he felt gentle hands turn his face up, strong arms enfolding him. Ianto kneeled before him, and Jack held onto him, willing himself not to cry.

"I hate this," he whispered.

"I hate it too," said Ianto, his voice shaky. "I don't want you to leave."

"You heard that?" Jack asked. "I said that out loud, for real?"

Ianto nodded, his face tucked against Jack's. "You went out right after I said something about keeping our own secrets. Silent, distant, blank—until you jumped up and started shouting. At least it's getting more obvious."

"I don't want to leave," Jack said. "I came back for you. Please believe me."

"I'm trying," said Ianto. "It's hard sometimes, though."

"If I can believe in you, you can believe in me!" Jack exclaimed. "I know you're not going to use me and betray me. Just like I'm not going to leave you and hurt you."

Ianto pulled back a little to gaze into Jack's eyes. "Is that your fear? That I'm going to betray you again?"

Jack couldn't bear the look on Ianto's face and buried his face in Ianto's neck. Ianto stroked his back, and they were quiet. Jack understood exactly what Ianto had meant by feeling vulnerable and exposed; he did not feel any better with Ianto knowing his deepest fears.

"I'm not going to betray you," Ianto began, speaking softly by his ear. "I could never do that, not to you. And not because we're sleeping together, but because I know you, Jack. I know you don't deserve it, and I have no reason to use you or betray you." He took a deep breath before continuing. "And because I care about you, which I think is why I am so scared of being hurt by…by this, whatever it is. Why I hate the thought of you leaving some day. I would never do anything to risk that."

Jack didn't know what to say, how to respond. Ianto had laid bare his soul and Jack's throat felt like it was sewn shut, the words stuck fast. He was sure nothing would come out, but his mind was racing, and he had to try.

"I'm not going to leave," Jack said. "I…I care about you too…I like this, whatever it is…and I'm not going to hurt you like that, by leaving. Only it's hard sometimes, because I wonder…well, I wonder why you're with me, if you wouldn't be better off without this. Safer. Happier."

"My life will never be safe," Ianto replied dryly. "And I wouldn't be happier if you left, not now."

"You don't know that," Jack whispered. "You deserve more."

"So do you," said Ianto. "You deserve to be happy, to live a life that isn't filled with constant loss and sorrow. It's not about what we deserve, but what we have. And I want what I have right now. I like it. I don't need anything else."

"I don't know," Jack said with a nervous laugh. "A nice house on the water, a boat, a dog…maybe a few kids running around … might be nice."

Ianto pulled back and looked at him in shock. "What?"

"Shit," said Jack, wide-eyed as he realized what he'd said and how it might be interpreted. "I'm just thinking out loud. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like—"

Ianto pulled him close and kissed him. "It's fine. At least now I know that deep down there's a normal bloke in there, and not the galactic playboy everyone else sees. But don't…don't propose or anything, all right? Not anytime soon."

Jack laughed, relieved that the awkward slip hadn't spiraled into disaster. "Deal. I will never say anything even remotely sentimental about the future, on pain of—"

"—of no more sex," Ianto finished. He raised an eyebrow. "Are we done? Can we never do that again?"

"Absolutely," Jack agreed with a laugh. "Now how are we going to stop this alien from playing on all that to get us to do something we don't want to do?"

Ianto became thoughtful, and for a moment Jack thought maybe he'd lost him to another nightmare again, only Ianto squeezed his hand when he saw Jack's look of concern. "Still here, just thinking."

"I have no idea how to fight this thing," Jack admitted. "This is not something I've seen, and I've seen a lot."

"I think we need to destroy it," Ianto replied. "Destroy the cube." Jack raised an eyebrow.

"You know Gwen would have something to say about that," he said.

"And I'd point out that it has attacked us multiple times," Ianto replied. "The problem is, if we destroy the cube, how do we know if we've really destroyed the Xrillian?"

"We don't," said Jack.

"Lure it out?" Ianto suggested. "Try to talk first?"

Jack looked skeptical. "I liked your first idea better."

"Me too, but maybe Gwen can talk it to death."

Jack laughed through his nose, too emotionally exhausted for more. "She probably could. All right, how do we force it out?"

Ianto nodded. "I have an idea. Throw on some clothes and let's finish this upstairs."

Jack felt a rush of pride and kissed him soundly. "As long as we can finish it downstairs later."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "That was a terrible line. And I was stabbed earlier, you know. I'm not feeling up to much right now except stopping this thing."

"I'll do all the work," Jack winked as he stood and began pulling on clean clothes. Ianto watched silently, until Jack slipped his braces on and offered his hand, helping Ianto stand.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For staying with me."

Ianto nodded again and made his way up the ladder, surprisingly still in Jack's casual clothes and moving gingerly. Jack followed, a renewed hope filling him. They would defeat this thing. There was no way he was going to let it ruin his relationship with Ianto.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! I'm hoping to wrap things up in two more chapters, but I've caught up to myself now, and with guests this past weekend I'm somewhat behind. I hope to update by the end of the week, however, and hope you continue to enjoy the story! Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

11.

"Wait, you want to what?" asked Gwen. Owen sniggered into his hand at her reaction.

"We want to draw it out," Jack explained as patiently as he could. He felt like it should be Ianto doing the talking, as it was his idea, but he was sipping a cup of tea with a blanket around his shoulders, looking tired and in pain, and Jack felt so bad for him that he decided he'd be the one to explain. He knew Gwen would have some choice words, after all.

"Why?" asked Gwen. "Isn't it dangerous?"

"Exceptionally," Ianto replied from his place on a chair. They were in the tourist office, hoping that the alien might not be able to affect them if they were far enough away from the cube. Owen had grumbled about having to decontaminate the small office, but the risk seemed worth it, to try and plan with some hope of secrecy.

"So why do we want it out?" asked Gwen. "It attacked Ianto. I thought Tosh was working on a way to stop it from getting out and reading our minds."

"I can't think of anything," Tosh sighed. "Nothing I've tried has had any affect, as far as I can tell."

"I'm afraid not," Jack told them. "We were both attacked with waking dreams again in my room a little while ago. It's escalating, and we need to stop it."

Owen was immediately circling around Ianto, who batted him away with a grumbled, "I'm fine." The doctor looked at Jack with a pointed question in his eyes.

"Nothing so dramatic as the medical bay," he said. "And we're getting better at recognizing it."

"Oh good," the doctor replied sarcastically. "That will help the rest of us."

"It's not after the rest of you," Ianto replied, sounding tired. "It's after Jack."

They looked at him in surprise. "Then why does it keep going after you?" asked Gwen, frowning. "It's been giving you nightmares for days and attacked you in the shower."

"Ianto's right," Jack said, stepping in. "It's after me. It's mad at me for shooting it and sticking it on a shelf in the archives for forty-five years." He left out the part about the Xrillian's mate having died in the second cube the Torchwood team had found in 1963.

"So it went after Ianto?" That was Owen, sounding skeptical as usual. "Why not torture you directly?"

Jack exchanged a long look with Ianto, who appeared both resigned to and annoyed with Gwen and Owen's questions. Jack couldn't blame him, and wanted to tell them to leave it alone, but Tosh spoke first.

"It is torturing Jack," she said softly, watching them both. "It's hurting Jack by hurting Ianto." She paused, trying to catch their eye. "Am I right?"

Jack nodded. "There's a bit more to it, but that's the general idea. Which is why we have to stop it, before it forces one of us to do something we can't come back from." He wasn't sure if that was the Xrillian's endgame, but he knew the others—particularly Gwen-would want an explanation, even if it was obvious.

"So you want to—what?" asked Owen, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sit down for a chat and ask it to kindly leave us alone and find someone else to haunt?"

"Something like that," Ianto murmured. He looked troubled, his usual poker face slipping with the stress, and Gwen picked up on it immediately.

"You mean to kill it!" she exclaimed, jumping up and wagging a finger at them. "You want to lure it out to kill it!"

"We could just blow up the cube for that," Owen pointed out. Tosh shook her head.

"But we wouldn't know if we'd actually killed it," she said. "I can't get any kind of reading on it, so we have no way of knowing if it's even in there."

"So we draw it out and shoot it in the head?" Gwen demanded. "That's wrong, Jack, and you know it!"

"It's attacked us several times, Gwen," Jack said. "We have no reason to assume it won't continue to do so unless we neutralize it."

"Then neutralize it!" she said. "Don't murder it in cold blood."

"I didn't say anything about killing it, did I?" Jack asked, glancing at the others.

"What do you intend to do then?" asked Gwen. "Once it's out of the cube."

"Attempt to negotiate, perhaps," Ianto offered, though Jack heard the skepticism in the Welshman's voice. "Try to understand what it's doing and what we can do to stop it."

"Is there any way we could get it home?" Tosh asked, then shook her head. "Only home is in the future, in the middle of a plague, so I don't know how we'd manage that."

"There's no way to get it home, I'm sorry," said Jack. "So we'll try talking to it first."

Gwen narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't talk to hostile aliens, Jack."

"I don't always shoot first either," Jack retorted.

Owen rolled his eyes. "Just most of the time."

"Owen," Tosh admonished. He shrugged unapologetically.

"Look, Gwen has a point, but so does Jack. We can try talking to it, but we might be looking at another situation like we had with Beth Halloran. If we can't stop it invading our minds, we might have to literally neutralize it. On ice."

"Then make sure the cryo-freeze is ready," Jack said. "But I don't think this thing will cooperate like Beth did, and I'm not sure freezing it will stop it from reaching out with its mind. Be prepared."

"You don't know that," said Gwen.

"What would you have us do then?" Jack asked, exasperated once again by her stubborn insistence to do what _she_ felt was the right thing, rather than take in the information, advice, and experience of the rest of the team. "It's an unknown alien entity that's trespassing on Torchwood property and attacking Torchwood operatives."

"I don't know!" she said, throwing up her hands. "Maybe it's just scared, lonely. There must be something we can do to help it without killing it."

"Gwen." Ianto spoke softly, but with conviction. "This thing has been in my head all week. It stabbed me. It forced Jack to shoot himself. As far as I'm concerned, even giving it the chance to talk is more than it deserves."

"Ianto," she began, and to everyone's surprise it was Tosh who stopped her.

"Leave it alone, Gwen," she snapped. "If we can't stop it, do you really want to take the chance that it might end up in your head, giving you nightmares? Or that it might attack you in the Hub, when you're least expecting it?"

"Tosh, I'm sure you can come up with a way to stop it," she said. "You've never let something like this beat you before." Tosh was gob smacked; Owen frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Jack stepped in first.

"That's enough," he growled, literally pulling Gwen away from the others. "We don't go after each other like that, understand? And next time you question the competence of this team, I will pull up each and every example of your own mistakes and Retcon you out of service before I'm done reading them out loud, understood?"

For the first time since he'd returned, Gwen was speechless. He felt the others staring at him, and took a deep breath to calm himself before turning back. There was a little voice in his head that was laughing, telling him that at least he hadn't shot Gwen this time, like he had in Hell. It was the same kind of behavior, but he did not feel the pull of the matchbox, pushing him to shoot. And yet even thinking about it brought a flare of panic, that Ianto might start acting like he had in Hell, sneering and laughing about using him, punishing him—

"Jack!" Ianto called softly. "Stay with us."

"Sorry," Jack replied, shaking his head. "Not the alien, just my own demons." Ianto frowned, and Jack resolved to tell him about Gwen's death in Hell. He'd often suspected his relationship with the former copper was a point of discomfort with Ianto; perhaps confessing some of his other feelings about Gwen would help set the Welshman's mind at ease.

"Tosh," said Ianto, still keeping a close eye on Jack. "We think the Riftquakes have been triggering the cube. I know you were planning on studying some of the data from the quakes. Could you somehow replicate the effect with our own equipment?

"Wait, you want her to _cause_ a Riftquake?" asked Owen. "That sounds remarkably insane, even for us."

"No, only the energy of it," Tosh answered, nodding slowly. "I think so, yes. And if it's strong enough and I direct it right at the cube, then hopefully it will force the Xrillian out into the open."

"Exactly," said Jack as Ianto smiled at her. "Owen, help her. Gwen, I want you keeping an eye on everything else. Ianto, you rest."

"I can help," Ianto protested, but Owen cut him off.

"Like hell you will," he said. "You've been moving around too much already. Crash on the sofa if you need to know what's going on, but I want you off your feet. Do you need anything for the pain?"

Ianto nodded reluctantly. "Then let's head back downstairs and get started," said the doctor. He turned to leave, and Ianto stood to follow him.

"Wait, what about the alien?" asked Gwen. "Couldn't it still get in our heads downstairs while we're working?"

"There's nothing we can do about it at this point," Jack told her. "We can't all work from up here. We take our chances."

"We should probably make sure there's someone with both of us at all times," Ianto offered. "To snap us out of any waking dreams."

"How?" asked Tosh. Jack smirked and Ianto blushed.

"Seriously?" asked Owen, pretending to gag. "I'm not snogging either one of you, I don't care what's messing with your brain."

"I appreciate the peace of mind," Ianto drawled in response. "I would suggest something else suitably distracting, and be ready with the sedative if it's bad enough."

"What about the rest of us?" asked Gwen.

"We already said it's not after you," said Jack.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know," Jack replied firmly.

"How do you know for sure?" she pressed. "If we're going to talk to it, we need to know everything, Jack, and you're not telling us everything."

"There's nothing else to know, Gwen," Jack replied wearily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Owen and Ianto standing by the hidden doorway, watching. Ianto appeared exasperated and ready to explode. "We have a plan, now let's get to work."

"Jack, you—" she started in that familiar tone of voice that signaled another confrontation, and Ianto stepped forward, his face contorted in anger.

"For god's sake, Gwen," he hissed. "Would you leave well enough alone? Did it ever occur to you that what's going on here might be intensely personal for both of us? Or are you so concerned with knowing everything about Jack that you don't care if you run roughshod over his—or my own—feelings?"

Owen swore under his breath. Jack had to give Gwen credit, because she tried to reply. "Ianto, I'm sorry, I'm only trying to—"

"To what? To help? Who are you trying to help, Gwen? The alien or us?"

"That's not fair," she said, shaking her head and settling in for it. "I'm trying to help both sides, to find a way to end this without murder. I need to know what's going on if I'm going to do that."

Ianto laughed bitterly and pointed his finger in her face. "You're not the only one dealing with this, Gwen. And you're not the boss."

"I'm the one trying to make sure we do the right thing."

Jack blew out a frustrated breath. Gwen's words were once again insulting. She'd been with Torchwood for over a year and still failed to see the bigger picture; more importantly, she still saw herself as better than the rest of them, as the one who cared, the one who always tried to do the right thing. It had been that way since her first case, when she'd railed at them for their lack of humanity in dealing with a young woman possessed by an alien. And it hadn't let up, from her determination to have answers to blind faith in her own beliefs. It had pissed off her teammates more than once, and had almost got her killed several times. He thought about ending it there, but sensed that Ianto had more to say; maybe it would have more of an effect coming from the normally mild-mannered Welshman.

Ianto's face hardened. "Gwen, the best thing you can do right now is mind your own damn business and follow orders. I know that's hard for you, but this is not something you can coo over and fix with a plaster and a cup of tea. This thing tried to kill me. It _did_ kill Jack. We have to stop it."

"And that means killing it?" she demanded. "Or freezing it without giving it a chance to defend itself? It's an alien being stranded on another world, another time. Maybe we should help it, not destroy it."

"Dammit, Gwen!" he shouted, stepping closer. "It's been in my head all week, feeding me dreams and visions of being killed by someone I care about. Do you have any idea what that's like? Can you imagine going to sleep every night and dreaming about Rhys strangling you in bed? Shooting you in the heart?"

Gwen, mercifully, was silent, her eyes wide with shock. Tosh and Owen avoided looking directly at anyone. Jack tried to catch Ianto's eye, but the Welshman was not to be stopped.

"What if it started messing with Rhys? What if he started having nightmares about you? About you betraying him, leaving him? What would you do, Gwen? Would you sit down and try to talk to it? Or would you do anything to stop it from hurting someone you—care about?" He stumbled over the end; Jack's breath caught in his throat.

"Ianto," he started, but Ianto turned his fury on Jack.

"No, don't defend her. I knew she wouldn't like it, but this is ridiculous." He turned back to Gwen. "You are such a good agent, Gwen, but you never know when to stop pushing. Well, I'm pushing back. I will give it a chance, but I will also do whatever it takes to stop this thing, including killing it. So don't get in my way." With one last glare he turned and stormed into the tunnel, leaving everyone speechless. Jack wanted to go after him, but Owen held up a hand.

"Let me check on him, make sure he hasn't hurt himself, okay? You can talk to him when he's not about to deck anyone."

"Be careful, Owen," Tosh said quietly. Owen grinned.

"He's already shot me once, what else can he do?"

He turned and left them in the tourist office, an uncomfortable silence filling the air. Tosh spoke first.

"I'll go get started on replicating the Riftquake energy," she said softly. She smiled at Jack. "I'm sorry this is happening. I wish I could stop it somehow."

Jack took three steps and enveloped her in a hug. "It's not your fault, Tosh. It never is. Thank you for all you've done to try and figure this out."

She returned the embrace, then nodded and left without a look back. Jack stood awkwardly with Gwen.

"Jack?" she asked quietly, staring at the door where the others had left. "What aren't you telling us about this? Why is it really after you and Ianto?"

He wanted to get angry, to yell and shout like Ianto had done, but he found instead that he was simply too tired: tired of the pushing and the arguing, of never feeling like he had done the right thing, that he was never good enough. He brought the latter down on himself whenever he thought about his relationship with Ianto; Gwen reinforced his self-doubt every time she questioned his actions. Taking a deep breath, he turned toward her and let her absorb the pain and heartache in his eyes.

"I'd send you home if we weren't under quarantine," he told her. "Stay up here. Work from Ianto's station, keep an eye on the news and all of our other programs. And think about how you can be a part of this team without constantly questioning it and putting it down. Because we need your trust and your strength, Gwen, not your petty self-indulgences and stubborn arrogance."

He turned his back on her and hurried down the corridor back to the Hub. He was worried about Ianto and how the tense situation might have affected his health. And he was extremely concerned that the alien might try to use the confrontation with Gwen against them. They needed to find it and destroy it—he'd never had any doubt they'd have to kill it—before it had a chance to destroy them all, possibly from the inside.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the chapter I was expecting—honestly, I thought it would be over by now and I'd be writing an epilogue—but as usual, things did not go as planned. I'm working quickly so I can finish this story before I listen to the new BF audio play (hopefully next week!) so look for another short update soon to get us to the endgame! Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Jack found Ianto in the medical bay, looking exceptionally miserable as Owen poked and prodded him. He glanced up at Jack, then immediately looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I was out of line upstairs."

Owen snorted. "You only said what we've all wanted to pound into her at some point."

Ianto shook his head, obviously regretting his words in the tourist office. "Maybe, but I was disrespectful about it, angry and aggressive. I should apologize."

"Later," said Jack. "Owen's right, you said what the rest of us were all thinking. She's had this problem since the day she started, it's past time we called her on it."

"It probably just rolled off her shoulders," Owen pointed, sounding annoyed.

Jack didn't tell them that Gwen had asked him one last time what he was holding back. He turned instead to the doctor. "Everything all right?" he asked, trying to sound light and not as worried as he felt.

Owen nodded. "Everything looks good, though he really needs to be in bed recuperating. I've given him some fluids and a lot more meds to help him through."

"I am right here," Ianto pointed out.

"And like I said, you should be in bed resting, not coming up with crazy schemes to kill aliens." Owen paused. "We are going to kill it, right?"

Jack exchanged a look with Ianto. "I don't think we'll have a choice, Owen. This thing is in our heads. It's not going to stop just because we ask it to."

"Oh, I totally agree," said Owen, nodding. "And I've got your back. But what if it messes with one of us before we can kill it, then what?"

"It won't," Jack said.

"That's what you told Gwen," Owen pointed out. "And of course she needs to know everything and understand everyone, especially when it comes to you."

Ianto rolled his eyes; Jack was too tired to grin and shrug it off.

"But are you sure that we don't need to know what else is going on? Because that's our safety you're gambling on when you hold your cards close."

Jack blew out a breath, trying to frame his answer, but Ianto spoke for both of them.

"We already told you. The Xrillian is mad at Jack because he shot it in 1963. Then when it apparently disappeared back into the cube, he put it in the archive and left it there for forty-five years."

Owen studied Ianto shrewdly. "So it's hurting Jack by hurting you, like Tosh said." When Ianto shrugged in response, Owen turned to Jack and continued. "It could still go after one of us, though. I'd like to think that you'd be a little bothered if I got shot, or if Tosh got stabbed. What's to stop that from happening?"

This time Ianto looked away, his jaw tight. Jack knew he'd have to say something, and if he were honest, it didn't bother him to tell Owen as much as it did Gwen.

"There were two cubes in 1963," Jack said. "One of them was destroyed coming through the Rift, and the team disposed of it. Apparently the Xrillian's mate was in the second cube. It thinks I killed it."

Ianto was staring at the ground so hard he could have drilled holes in it. Owen glanced back and forth between them. "So this thing is looking for what, revenge?" Jack nodded once, pulling his arms tight around him in defense. Owen, however, laughed. "And that's the big secret? That it's targeting Ianto because it thinks he's your mate?"

"Owen," Jack started, but the doctor waved him off.

"Relax," he said. "I understand why you wouldn't want to tell Gwen, since that would set off a virtual firestorm of questions, but I don't see the big deal. You're still sleeping together, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Jack. "And we prefer to keep that between ourselves."

"You work in an office with five people, of course we know you're shagging," Owen pointed out. "So I don't…oh." He trailed off, glancing between Jack and Ianto with a slow nod. "I get it now."

"What?" asked Ianto, his head whipping up. "What do you get?"

Owen's face took on that rare of look of sympathy. Jack could see Ianto's defenses rising even higher. "It's really messing with you both, isn't it? That's why you said it was personal, why you got all bent out of shape upstairs. You're dreaming about Jack killing you, and he's dreaming something equally as bad. And not because you're coworkers who're shagging, but because you're mates."

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. Owen held up a hand to stop him anyway. "Look, it's none of my business, like you said, and I won't say anything to the girls. I thought there was more to whatever was going on, but this…this is tough." He shook his head and sighed. "I can't imagine."

Jack cleared his throat. "Thanks, Owen."

"So long as you both know that you're not at fault here, right?" Owen asked. "Whether it's a nightmare or a waking dream, you're being forced to see and hear and feel these things. It's not what's really going on."

"We know," Jack replied. "But it's…complicated."

"Don't let it beat you," said Owen. "Maybe when this is over you should take a day, or a weekend, and work through it. In my professional opinion, of course."

"We need to work through this first," Ianto pointed out. "If we can't stop this thing, it'll keep going until one of us is dead and the other broken." It was fairly obvious who would play which role.

"Then we stop it, and Gwen's bleeding heart be damned," said Owen. "She opened the Rift and turned back time to save her boyfriend. I don't see why one of you can't put down an alien for the same reason."

Jack ducked his head with a smile at the look on Ianto's face when Owen referred to him as Jack's boyfriend. They definitely didn't see themselves that way, and Jack wasn't sure they ever would. And that was all right, because it was more than that, more than a single label. Knowing that others had done more to save those they…yes, that they loved…made Jack feel that much stronger in his convictions. They had to stop it, no matter the cost to the alien or the team.

"All right," Owen coughed, obviously uncomfortable with the silence that had sprung up. "I'm going to go help Tosh so she's not alone. You two stick together in case it attacks again. Give a shout if you need one of us."

"Thanks, Owen," said Jack. "I appreciate it."

Owen grumbled under his breath about bosses and teaboys and left them in the medical bay, alone again. Jack tucked his hands into his pockets.

"That definitely wasn't how I was expecting that to go!" he offered cheerfully. Ianto actually smiled.

"Sometimes Owen's not half as bad as he tries to be."

"Sometimes?" shouted the doctor from above them. They both laughed. Jack pulled up a chair next to Ianto.

"Seriously, how are you? Besides shocked at Owen and pissed off at Gwen?"

"I'm fine," Ianto sighed. "And I'm not pissed off, not exactly. It's been a long week and I couldn't take her attitude anymore. Not this time, when she hasn't experienced it in her head. I'm sorry," he offered again, and Jack shook his head and reached for his hand.

"No apologies necessary. I understand, I really do. Even if it seems like I don't. Believe me, I do." He remembered his time in Hell, when he'd grown so fed up with Gwen that he'd shot her.

"Jack?" Ianto asked. "What's wrong? You had the same look on your face upstairs."

"It's just that…" Jack took a deep breath. "Remember when I told you I'd seen and done things in Hell? Terrible things?"

Ianto nodded, looking wary. "And one of them had to do with Gwen?" he asked. Jack nodded, but before he could say anything, Ianto stopped him. "It's fine, Jack. You don't have to tell me. It wasn't real, and whatever happened there…well, I suppose it stays there."

Jack frowned. "It's not what you think," he said.

"I still don't need to know," Ianto insisted.

"But I want to tell you. It might…it might help." Ianto still looked reluctant, so Jack took his hand and held tight. "When I was in Hell, I killed Gwen. I shot her in the head because she was driving me crazy with her mothering and bossing and questioning. I couldn't stop myself. I pulled out my gun and shot her," he repeated, hanging his head as he remembered the awful scene in Hell.

Ianto was staring at him when Jack finally raised his head to meet Ianto's eyes. But whether it was shock or horror or relief there, Jack couldn't tell.

"You didn't have to tell me," Ianto finally said. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I wanted to tell you," Jack replied. "I don't want it to happen again. I don't want this thing to make me kill her, especially after what happened upstairs. I couldn't resist before and I don't think I could resist again."

Ianto frowned. "Of course you could, you resisted when it wanted you to kill me."

"Because you're different!" Jack exclaimed. "I know you don't think so, but you are. You're special, and it knows that, which is why this is happening."

Ianto looked away. "This is really insane, isn't it?"

"Hell of a week," Jack agreed. He laid his head on the bed and felt Ianto's hand run through his hair, gentle and comforting.

"I don't even know if this is real, right now," Ianto murmured so softy Jack could barely hear him. "Or if something will go wrong, and you'll suddenly stand up and leave us all behind."

"I'm not leaving," Jack replied. "We're going to beat this thing and do exactly what Owen suggested. Go away for a weekend, take some time for us. No aliens, no nosy coworkers, just us."

"Just us," Ianto replied. Jack stood up, sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned over to kiss him. What started as a simple kiss quickly grew into something more heated, until they were interrupted by a groan from above them.

"Can't you two wait 'till this is over to kiss and make up?" said Owen. "Some of us are trying to work."

"What've you got for us, Owen?" asked Jack, standing straight and glancing up at the doctor with a smirk.

"Tosh has figured out how to reproduce the energy of the Riftquake," he announced. "It's time to talk to our little square friend."

"That was fast," Ianto commented, and Tosh appeared at the railing.

"I'm good," she grinned. "Really good. I'd already started looking into the readings a few days ago, so it wasn't hard to figure out at all. And since I can't run any tests without affecting the cube, I figured you'd want to be up here."

"We should probably get Gwen down here too," Jack said, following Ianto up the stairs. "You did say something about her talking it to death."

"I did not—" Ianto started to protest as Owen burst out laughing, and even Tosh grinned. "Okay, I did. I do think, however, that it should be you. You're not only the leader, but the one it's after."

"I couldn't agree more, since who knows what she'd say. Let's do this."

Owen called Gwen down as Tosh brought out the Xrillian cube and set it on a table. Jack hovered nearby, refusing to let his nerves get the better of him. He wasn't afraid of being attacked, not physically. It was whatever the alien threw at them mentally that he was trying to prepare for. And if it didn't go after him, then it might go after Ianto, and Jack didn't want to see the other man suffer anymore. It had to end. They'd try to talk to it, but what use would it really do? They couldn't offer a hostile psychic alien sanctuary in any way; it would always be a threat.

Checking that his gun was loaded, Jack slipped it into his holster. Ianto stepped up next to him, standing tall and determined, the blanket left behind on the sofa. To Jack's surprise, he too had his weapon, which he slipped into the pocket of the sleeping pants he was still wearing.

"You won't need it," Jack said quietly.

"You don't know that," Ianto replied.

"I do, because I'm not going to let you kill it."

Ianto turned and gave him an incredulous look. "And why the hell not?"

"It's my job," said Jack, avoiding Ianto's eye. "It's my fault that this thing's still here and going after us, so it's my responsibility to put an end to it."

He could feel Ianto shaking his head beside him, imagined the Welshman was probably rolling his eyes as well. Jack gave him a pointed look. "I don't want this on your conscience."

Ianto actually huffed at him. "I've killed before, Jack."

"This is different," Jack replied. "This is personal."

"Why does that matter?" Ianto asked. "I can separate the two, you know. I've been doing it for months. I'm not going to kill it because I'm mad at it for wrecking my sleep cycle. If it's a threat, I'll do what I have to do."

"I'll do it first, then," Jack replied, trying to hide a grin. This time he did see Ianto roll his eyes.

"This isn't a pissing contest, Jack," Ianto told him.

"I'm trying to protect you," Jack said.

"From what?" Ianto demanded. "From myself? My conscience? Or from Gwen?" He let out a short laugh. "I'm not worried about what she thinks of me. In fact, you should probably let me shoot it so she doesn't take it out on you like she's done every other time."

"Now who's trying to protect whom?" Jack asked.

"I'm not—"

Tosh turned around then and actually stomped her foot. "Will you two stop it? You sound like children, pushing each other back and forth on the playground. We should all be armed, because we can't predict what it will do when it's forced out of the cube. It could be aggressive. It could go after any one of us physically or mentally. So everyone should have their weapon and be prepared to use it."

"Tosh," Gwen said from the steps, joining them from upstairs. "I don't think—"

Ianto groaned under his breath as Owen moved to intercept her. He laid a firm hand on her arm and spoke quietly, so that no one heard what he said. But Gwen's face showed it all: she gazed at Jack and Ianto in confusion first, then disbelief, then something that looked like disappointment and hurt. Once again Owen held up a hand to stop her from opening her mouth, and to everyone's surprise, she nodded before joining them. Yet she was stiff, and it was clear that she was uncomfortable. Jack, however, ignored her.

"All right, Tosh," he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation and offering a trademark grin to diffuse the tension. "Let's see what you can do!"

She began explaining, in detail, how she was going to reproduce the energy of the Riftquake. Jack followed most of it; Owen's eyes went unfocused almost immediately. Gwen looked like she was trying to understand, but Ianto—who normally kept up with Tosh quite well—looked impatient. Finally Tosh started the procedure, increasing the strength of her improvised simulator each time there was no obvious reaction from the cube.

Until without warning Gwen froze, reached behind her, and pulled out her gun only to point it straight at Ianto.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that I hadn't planned on, in which Owen puts on his nice hat. It's short, but I'm digging these shorter chapters (seriously – editing 6-8K chapters is a bear!) and it gets us closer to where we're going. Penultimate chapter coming up. Hold on to your hats, it's looking intense. Thank you so much for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

13.

Jack's heart leapt into his throat as he stepped toward Gwen, hands out in a conciliatory gesture. It was obvious she was experiencing one of the waking nightmares that he and Ianto had been plagued with, and that she was being forced to raise her weapon against them. Yet even as he told himself that she wasn't acting of her own volition, it occurred to him that when Ianto had been mentally attacked, he'd gone still and quiet, experiencing it within his own mind, and that he'd said the same about Jack, until Jack had raised his gun and shot himself.

Which meant that Jack was most likely the one being attacked. The alien had apparently picked up on the conflict with Gwen, and had chosen to bring her into Jack's waking dream. He grinned at her, or at the false image of her, projecting a confidence he didn't quite feel; it reminded him too much of being in Hell.

"Nice try," Jack said. "But we're onto you now. This isn't real."

Gwen appeared nervous but determined. She shook her head and glanced away, then turned back and straightened, her face a blank mask. With two perfect shots to the head, she took down Tosh and Owen, leaving Jack staring in shock at the blood spattered bodies on the floor. Ianto, standing too close to Owen, wiped blood from his cheek and turned wide eyes to Jack.

"It's real, Jack," he whispered. "Oh god, it's real this time."

"Shut up!" Gwen snarled, her gun trained back on Ianto. Her finger moved, and Jack jumped forward, his Webley out and aimed straight at her temple, unable to ignore his instincts. He had to stop her, real or not.

"Gwen!" he shouted. "Don't! This isn't you, it's the Xrillian making you do this."

"Of course it is," she said over her shoulder. "And that's okay, because I've wanted to do this for a long time, but I never had the courage." She turned back to Ianto. "Good bye, Ianto. He's mine now."

And she shot him through the heart before Jack could even try to stop her. Ianto fell to the floor like a rag doll, blue eyes staring dully at the ceiling. Jack took a step toward him, stuffing his fist in his mouth to keep from sobbing hysterically, but Gwen stepped in front of him, stopping him.

"They're all gone now," she said, lowering her gun and relaxing. "We can finally be together."

"What?" Jack asked incredulously, trying think straight. It couldn't be real, it couldn't. Ianto couldn't be dead, Jack didn't know what he'd do if he lost Ianto now. And Gwen would never act this way, no matter her feelings. It was part of his nightmare, and he had to break out of it, only the thought of Ianto actually dying left him feeling helpless and numb. "What are you talking about?"

"He's not your mate," she scoffed. "It was supposed to be me. It _is_ me. Right, Jack? I'm the one you want."

Jack raised his gun once more; it had gone far enough. If he had to shoot himself to get out of it, he would, but first he'd try to break the vision.

"You're wrong," he said. "He means everything to me. This won't work."

She shook her head, ignoring the weapon pointed at her as she moved closer and reached out for him. "I did it for you, Jack. You don't love him, and now you're free of him."

"Yes, I do," Jack whispered, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I know you won't ever tell him, so what's the point?" she asked. "You're always so worried about him being with you, wanting him to have a normal life, thinking he could do better. No, _you_ can do better now."

"Not with you!" he growled. This was worse than his vision in Hell; if Bryan Adams started playing he _would_ shoot himself. "Stop it! This ends now!"

"Are you going to shoot me?" she asked with guileless innocence and a hint of seduction that Jack found repulsive. He took a step backward as she moved forward. "You did once and you were devastated. Could you do it again?"

"Yes," he snarled, though his hand shook. "Don't make me."

"I'm not going to make you do anything," she said with a laugh that made his skin crawl. "I don't have to. You're mine, Jack. You couldn't shoot me, not again. We can be together now."

"I don't want to," he said, still backing away as she continued to move closer. He held up the gun once more, forcing his hand to remain steady. "This can't be real. Get out of my head!"

"It's very real," Gwen insisted. "Ianto's dead, but I'm not. And you could never shoot me, it would tear you apart."

The look on her face was so smug, so _evil_ and unlike Gwen that Jack felt reasonably confident this wasn't actually her, that he was trapped in a vision within his mind. His finger twitched; he ached to pull the trigger, thinking it would snap him out of it, and yet if he shot _her_ , and it wasn't a nightmare, he'd kill her, and there would be no coming back. He placed the gun to his temple.

Muscles shifted to compensate for kickback, but before his finger had moved more than a millimeter, a shot ran out from beside them, and Jack's face was splattered with blood as a bullet tore through Gwen's head, and she fell dead at his feet.

Jack looked up to find Ianto standing there, his hand strong and sure around the grip of his gun. He was fine: he was alive, there was no blood, and he was staring at Jack with a grim expression.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But it wasn't her."

Jack stared back, his gun falling loosely to his side, too much in shock to go to the other man, to even move. He glanced wildly around the Hub, saw Tosh and Owen's bodies still lying motionless on the floor.

"I don't understand," he said. "She shot you, all of you."

"It only made you think she shot me," Ianto replied, drawing a shaky breath. "I'm not sure about the others, but I'm okay. Are you?"

"I think so." A nervous laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. "But what's real? What's not? Are they all dead? Or are we both trapped in a vision, thinking they are?"

"I don't know," Ianto replied, stepping closer. "I don't know anything anymore, except that you're all right. It's over."

"Oh god," Jack shuddered, sinking into Ianto's embrace. They held one another close, until Jack took Ianto's face in his hands, searching his eyes for the man he knew and loved. He kissed him deeply, and Ianto returned the kiss, and for a moment there was nothing in the world but the two of them.

Ianto smiled against his lips. "It'll be okay, Jack," he said. "You're mine. We'll figure this out."

"Wait, what?" Jack asked, pulling away. "What do you mean, I'm yours?" It had sounded strange enough coming from Gwen; it was not something Ianto would ever say, not in a thousand years.

"I heard what you said to Gwen," Ianto replied. "That I meant everything to you. That she didn't. I…I don't know what to say, except I'm yours too."

Jack shook his head. Something was still not right. Ianto looked like Ianto—hesitant and hopeful, still tired and pale, but there was a strange light in his eyes now, one that Jack remembered.

"Shut up," he snarled, placing his Webley against Ianto's forehead and pressing a circle into the skin. "And leave us the hell alone."

"Jack!" Ianto exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Calling the bluff," Jack snapped. "It's over. You can't keep doing this."

"Well damn," said Ianto, rolling his eyes. "Game's up, I suppose. Guess you're going to have to shoot me after all."

"No!" Jack shouted, but his hands were shaking hard now. Ianto sneered at him.

"You didn't have a problem snuffing me in Hell," he said. "Do it."

"No," Jack ground out.

"Then you'd better leave," Ianto replied. "Run, before UNIT shows up and charges you with murdering your team. Wouldn't be the first time Torchwood's gone mad and snapped."

"I'm not leaving," Jack snapped. "Just like I'm not going to shoot you."

"Why?" asked Ianto. "If it's not actually me, it doesn't matter, does it?"

"It's what you want me to do, and that's reason enough," Jack replied. "I'm not playing your mind games."

"Of course you are." Ianto scoffed at him. "You have been since the moment this all started, since the night we first slept together. So choose your ending, Jack. Shoot the gun, or turn and run."

"No," Jack ground out. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can," Ianto sing-songed at him. "Because you deserve it. You hurt people, Jack. You destroy them. Everyone who comes near you, who tries to love you."

"Stop it," Jack whispered, the emotional onslaught too much.

"I don't think so," Ianto replied. "So much pain to twist and turn. It's almost too easy!"

Jack took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. "No. I'm not giving in. It's over. This ends now."

"Okay," said Ianto, and shot him in the face.

When Jack came to, gasping for air, he was alone on the floor, his head pounding, his body stiff and cold. He sat up quickly, thinking the vision would be broken, just as it had ended in the medical bay, but Tosh was still down, Owen and Gwen lying limply beside her.

"Ianto?" he called with a shaky breath, wondering where the Welshman was, hoping he wasn't another body lying on the floor.

"The game's over, Captain," answered a rough voice. "They're all dead. Even your mate." The alien form of the Xrillian that Jack had seen on the CCTV footage from the showers stood nearby. It was humanoid in shape, though with a scaly, almost reptilian appearance, reinforced when it hissed wordlessly at him, as if it here laughing.

Jack stood and looked around him once more. And there was Ianto, lifeless eyes staring at nothing, a gaping hole in his chest.

"No," Jack gasped, stumbling backward and almost falling to the ground. The alien hissed again.

"Oh yes. I shot them all, except your mate. You did that."

Jack shook his head, knowing it was a lie, that the alien was playing with him again. "No I didn't. I know that, I know that more than anything. It's the one thing I believe. I would never, ever do that."

"You did," it hissed, and Jack shouted at it.

"No I didn't! I couldn't do that, not to him!"

"Then he's dead because you did nothing to stop me. Because you didn't believe it was real. All of their deaths are on you, Captain, because you did nothing to stop it. You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself."

Jack fell to his knees, tearing at his hair before he crawled toward Ianto. He knew he hadn't killed his lover, but that he had been complacent and was ultimately at fault made a horrifying sense. He felt something inside him snap and break. "Oh god. No, no, no! Please don't let this be real. Please don't leave me!"

"He'd dead," the Xrillian snarled. "And it's all your fault."

Jack fell back, staring at nothing, his mind too numb to do anything. His team was gone, and Ianto with them, and even though a small voice in the back of his mind was telling him it was fake, shouting at him to get up, fight back, he couldn't. Ianto was dead. It was too much to bear.

He stood up in a daze and turned toward his office. It was finally time to leave this life behind.

* * *

Ianto's heart clenched in his chest as Gwen pointed the gun at him. He held up his hands as if in surrender, desperately trying to think of what to do, how to stop her. It had to be the alien, manipulating her into shooting them. Or perhaps he was trapped in another nightmare; but why then was it Gwen with the gun and not Jack? It had always been Jack threatening him before, attacking him, leaving him. Why Gwen?

"You don't need to do this," Ianto said, taking a small step forward. Jack looked frozen to the spot, his face a mask of terror. Ianto remembered what Jack had done in Hell and imagined he was reliving it in the worst way. "Give me the gun, Gwen. This isn't real. You don't want to shoot anyone."

Gwen frowned, then shook her head. With two quick shots she took out Tosh and Owen, and then Jack as well. Ianto jumped back as the blood splattered him, and he stared in shock at his coworkers, his friends, his lover, dead on the floor.

"Actually, I do," she said, then smiled. "I need to do this."

"No, you don't," Ianto insisted. "It's the alien making you think so." Or it was all in his head, but he had to try and stop it, either way.

"Only because I agreed," she said. "I _want_ to do this."

"Why?" Ianto asked. He wasn't sure he could get to his weapon fast enough before Gwen shot him. And if it was real and she was being manipulated, he might kill her. He could only try to talk her down.

Gwen laughed shrilly, a completely unnatural sound for her. "Would you rather he did it? Because you know he'll hurt you. He'll never tell you he loves you."

"It's not about that," Ianto began, but she stopped him.

"Of course it is," she said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "He's going to leave you one day, you know that. Why would he stay?"

"So you're trying to protect me, is that it?" Ianto asked, growing angry. This didn't make any sense at all.

"In a way," she replied. "And with you out of the way, he'll be mine."

"What?" Ianto couldn't help it: he laughed. "You just shot him!"

"He'll come back," she replied. "But this way he can't stop me."

It was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. If the alien was trying to mess with his mind, it had made a massive error. Yes, Ianto had his insecurities when it came to Jack, and especially with Gwen, but he was smart enough to recognize when he was being manipulated into seeing and hearing something that wasn't there. And while Gwen might have had feelings of some sort for Jack, and he for her, they had both made their choices and commitments. More important, Gwen would never kill Jack—or her coworkers—to be with him. This was not Gwen, not even Gwen's deepest fears and desires, and Ianto had every confidence that this was all in his mind. It lent him the resolve to make a decision. As fast as he could, he pulled his weapon out and leveled it at Gwen.

"It's over. Drop the magic curtain or I'll shoot."

Gwen rolled her eyes in a gross caricature of his own favorite form of expression. "Fine. But it's not over, not for a long shot."

Gwen seemed to ripple, and standing in her place was the alien who had stabbed him in the shower. Ianto felt a surge of hatred, that this being was taunting them, and almost rushed forward to attack it with his own hands. Instead he stayed steady with his weapon, breathing slowly to calm his racing heart.

The Xrillian was faintly reptilian in appearance, and sounded even more so when it spoke. "You might destroy me, but it's too late for the others. I shot them all, and your precious captain thinks he's killed you."

The alien motioned to the ground nearby, where Gwen's body stared lifelessly at the ceiling, blood pooling around her head. Ianto slammed his eyes shut, shook his head, but when he opened them, she was still there, still dead. With Tosh and Owen and Jack.

"No," he whispered. The alien hissed at him, as if laughing. Jack gasped back to life at that moment, glancing around wildly and calling out for him. Ianto tried to reply, but the Xrillian shook its head.

"He can't hear you. He thinks you're dead." Ianto watched in horror as Jack fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he pulled at his hair and stared at the empty floor before him. He knew he should go to Jack, try to break him out of his waking nightmare, but the alien needed to be destroyed first.

"He is broken," the Xrillian said. "And now he'll leave you forever."

"No he won't," Ianto growled. "Because this is done." He pumped eight rounds into the creature before him. It fell to the ground, black blood leeching onto the stone floor of the Hub. To be completely sure it couldn't escape as it had in 1963, he emptied the rest of the magazine into the cube. It exploded into pieces with a burst of violet energy, crackling and smoking on the table.

The shots seemed to have roused Jack. He jumped up, glancing around as if looking for the source. His Webley was held before him as he turned.

"Jack," Ianto called softly, moving forward. "Jack, it's me. It's over. The alien is dead."

Jack didn't appear to see the alien on the floor. He did however, see Ianto, and his face morphed instantly into a mask of furious hatred.

"Drop the gun," he snarled. "Or I'll shoot."

"Jack!" Ianto said, setting it down and raising his arms. "It's me, really me. I stopped it. Look in front of you, on the floor."

Jack kept his eyes on Ianto, refusing to look away. "You shot my…my…you shot _him_." He was shouting incoherently, tears running down his face. "You shot Ianto, and he did nothing to you!"

"Jack! I'm fine, I'm right here!" Ianto felt another rush of panic. Jack believed that Ianto was the Xrillian, and he was upset enough to shoot. Ianto had to somehow snap him out of the vision, but with Jack holding the gun, he wasn't sure how.

"Shut up," Jack snarled. "I'm ending this right now. It might not bring him back, but you're not going to keep messing with my head. Not for all eternity."

There was a gurgling rattle nearby. Ianto glanced at the Xrillian, saw one eye flutter open, and felt certain it was laughing. He looked back to Jack, who still didn't seem aware of the dying alien on the floor. He stepped back and grinned, clearly ready to fire.

"Don't," Ianto whispered, desperate to survive this now that they were so close to saving themselves. Jack shook his head and pulled the trigger.

Blinding pain shattered his chest, and he sank to the floor next to the Xrillian. It laughed again, black blood burbling from its mouth. Violet eyes fluttered open and captured Ianto's with an intensity he couldn't resist. He felt the alien's presence in his mind—overwhelming pain and sadness, an inescapable feeling of loss and loneliness. And behind it, complete madness.

It had lost its mate when their containment cubes had tumbled through the Rift. It had been shot and left for dead in the dark archives for years, occasionally absorbing the right energy from the Rift to heal and survive, to continue through the long years, nursing its hatred. Insanity eventually prevailed, revenge the only thought that survived intact: Jack Harkness had been there that day. Jack Harkness had shot it. Jack Harkness had killed its mate.

Strength returned. Jack Harkness remained. It would take its revenge on both Harkness and his mate for its long years of suffering. It had been easy to sense Ianto's connection to the captain, to read his mind, and then Jack's. To send them the dreams and nightmares of their worst fears, their every doubt. To haunt them with their own minds.

And now it had won. Jack had been forced to shoot Ianto. He'd said he'd be able to resist, but he hadn't even seen Ianto through the glamour of the Xrillian's mental manipulation. Jack thought he'd stopped the alien; he would truly break when the nightmare ended and he saw them all lying dead around him. And he would run, leaving Ianto behind.

Unless it was all another nightmare.

Ianto sucked in a sharp breath as the thought occurred to him that perhaps none of it was real. It was his only hope. Jack had said that he could never shoot Ianto. That he hadn't been able to resist killing Gwen, but that he could resist any compulsion to kill Ianto because Ianto was special, and Jack cared about him. He wouldn't leave, he had come back for Ianto. And Ianto cared about him, enough to fight whatever was happening.

He wasn't dying, he only thought he was. He needed to break out of the nightmare. Closing his eyes, Ianto tried to clear his mind, but the pain was too much, too distracting, too _real_. So he used it instead: pressing his hand into the wound just shy of his heart, he screamed in self-inflicted pain and passed out.

When he came to, he felt completely different. Free. His mind was clear, and there was no excruciating pain in his abdomen. Sitting up, he opened his eyes and glanced around. The alien lay nearby, black blood still pooling around it's body, violet eyes staring blankly in death. Gwen, Tosh, and Owen were nearby, but there was no blood. A quick check found them unconscious, not dead.

No blood. Not dead.

But where was Jack?

A sound from Jack's office drew his attention. He looked over and saw Jack frantically running around, grabbing things haphazardly, shaking his head and apparently talking to himself. It appeared as if he were packing, and it suddenly dawned on Ianto that Jack was leaving. Running away.

He dashed toward the office, moving as fast as he could, and burst into the tiny room only to find Jack once more pointing a gun at him. He was exceptionally tired of Jack trying to kill him and had to pull back on his angry instinct to rush Jack and fight back.

"Jack!" he shouted, raising his hands as he skidded to a halt. "Stop! It's me!"

"You keep saying that!" Jack laughed hysterically. "But it's never true. Ianto's dead! You killed him!"

"No, Jack!" Ianto said, taking a slow step forward. "I'm not dead. I'm okay, I'm right here. It's really me."

"Shut up," Jack hissed at him, and Ianto froze, sensing that Jack was in a dangerous place. He decided to try a different tactic.

"Where are you going?" he asked quietly and as calmly as he could when Jack started moving around the room again.

"Anywhere but here," Jack replied, avoiding his eye.

"You're leaving?"

"Torchwood, Cardiff, Earth. There's nothing here for me anymore." Jack stopped, his eyes closing as he took a shuddering breath. "It's over."

"No," Ianto said, shaking his head. "No, this isn't you, Jack. You don't quit, you don't run away."

"I have and I am."

"No," Ianto insisted. "The Xrillian is dead. You're still trapped in your nightmare! You have to snap out of it!"

"There's nothing to snap out of. It's over. You're…he's gone, and I'm not staying here."

Ianto moved closer, taking his chances, trusting that Jack wouldn't shoot. "Jack, you can't leave." Jack ignored him, continuing to rummage through his desk. He took out a small tin and stared at it, then threw it into a rucksack before moving toward his bunker. Ianto reached out for his arm, hoping that Jack wouldn't shake him off. Instead he froze, still as a statue.

"Please," Jack whispered. "Stop torturing me. You've taken my team, you've taken my…the man I…" He turned away. "You win. I'm leaving."

Ianto reached down to enfold his hand in Jack's, squeezing tight. He moved closer, gently tugging Jack around to face him. Jack stared down at their hands.

"Please don't go," Ianto said softly, his voice raw with fear. "Don't make my nightmares come true."

Jack raised his eyes, and Ianto nodded as he started to see recognition and hope there. "It's me, Jack, and I don't want you to go. I don't know what I'd do if you left."

"Ianto," Jack stuttered, his hand coming up to Ianto's face. "Is it really you?"

"Yes," Ianto almost sobbed. "Fight it, Jack. Whatever you think happened, it's not real. The others are alive, they're all right. I'm all right."

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jack's lips, hoping it might help. Jack stared at him, until with a gasp he closed his eyes and returned the kiss with passion, his arms coming up to pull Ianto close. The kiss was short, but they stayed within one another's embrace, drawing comfort.

"Tell me this is real," Jack whispered.

"It's real," Ianto said. "The nightmare is over."

Jack pulled back, holding Ianto's hand tight. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't fight it at the end, that I—" He glanced around his office, at the bag he'd packed. "I thought everyone was dead—that you were gone. Thank you for stopping me."

"Yes, well," said Ianto, feeling the emotion tug at his throat. "I, er, didn't want you to leave without cleaning up." Jack raised an eyebrow, and Ianto tried to keep a straight face, knowing perfectly well he was diffusing the situation with a pathetic attempt at humor. "And you did say something about a weekend away."

"I did, didn't I?" Jack said, smiling warmly. He held Ianto close. "And I meant it, so don't change your mind."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "A weekend of nothing but sex without any alien interruptions? I'm definitely not changing my mind."

"Good," said Jack, taking a deep breath. "Because you know I—"

Ianto put a finger to his lips. "I know. Me too."

Jack looked like he still wanted to say more, but Ianto kissed him, holding him close and enjoying the feel of his lips and hands until once again they were interrupted by Owen groaning in the doorway.

"I can't get away from this, can I?" he asked, pretending to cover his eyes. "We're unconscious and you're in here snogging like schoolboys. What the hell happened out there?"

Tosh and Gwen appeared next to him, looking equally confused. Ianto smiled at Jack and stepped away, turning to the team to answer.

"Well, everyone died at one point or another, but we all came back, so it's over." He looked at Gwen. "We had no choice. The Xrillian is dead."

She didn't say anything, but Owen did. "You sure?"

"I emptied my clip into both the Xrillian and the cube," Ianto said. "I don't know how it could survive." A surge of anxiety tightened his chest, that something had gone wrong, that it had escaped, or that this was still a vision created by the creature.

"Where's the body then?" asked Owen. "Because it's not out there."

Jack swore under his breath and ran back into the Hub. Sure enough, there was a large black spot on the floor where it had fallen, but no reptilian body to be seen. He turned with wide eyes to Ianto.

"Tell me this isn't happening," he said, his voice low with anxiety. "Because I can't keep doing this!"

Ianto stared at the floor. "I shot it. There's no way it could have survived."

"I shot it too," Jack said. "In 1963. And it went back into its cube and did exactly that, it survived!"

"No," said Ianto, hurrying over to the remnants of the cube and kicking a few pieces around. "No, look at this. It's completely destroyed. It couldn't have possibly retreated into bits of scrap metal!" But his voice sounded almost as hysterical as he felt, as Jack looked. Once again Owen stepped up.

"Look, we'll toss it all into the incinerator. Right now. Not a piece left behind. Tosh?"

"Right," she said, shaking herself from where she was staring at the broken pieces of the cube. "I doubt the device could have survived anyway, but just to be sure…" She trailed off, obviously as unsure as the rest of them. She and Owen started gathering the scraps of metal.

"Jack, what happened to us?" asked Gwen.

"Not now, Gwen," said Jack, sighing as he passed a hand over his eyes. "Later, but not now. It was bad, and it was justified. Right now we need to make sure this thing is truly gone, and everything to do with it destroyed."

To Ianto's surprise, she nodded and began to help Tosh and Owen gather the pieces of the cube without another word. Jack turned to Ianto.

"We've got this, you rest. And as soon as we're sure it's over, we're leaving. Can we go back to yours?"

"Of course," said Ianto in surprise. "But I can help—"

Jack turned him toward the sofa and kissed him on the side of his head. "You were the one actually injured in all this, so you sit down." He grinned. "I want you in top shape for our weekend away."

"Right," Ianto drawled. "Never mind for my own peace and comfort."

"Oh, I'll make you comfortable," Jack replied. "Later. Right now, sit down, put your feet up, close your eyes. It shouldn't take long."

Ianto nodded and sank down onto the couch. Truth be told, the adrenaline of the past few hours was wearing off, and he was growing more tired by the minute. He couldn't wait to go home and sink into his own sofa, preferably with a very strong glass of whiskey, or perhaps he'd go straight to bed. For a week. With Jack.

"Be careful," he said as Jack walked away. Jack turned and nodded.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

"I know," Ianto replied. "Me neither."

He watched as the others gathered the pieces of the cube Ianto had blown apart. Gwen and Owen took them to the incinerator, every last piece, leaving nothing to chance. Tosh pulled up the CCTV footage from the last hour, and they watched as Jack and Ianto froze, deep in the clutches of their waking nightmare. Almost immediately Tosh, Owen, and Gwen lost consciousness. Soon Jack fell to his knees. Then Ianto pulled out his weapon, fired it first at empty space and then the cube, and the Xrillian appeared, lying on the floor in its own blood. Jack ran to his office, Ianto went after him, and as they were off camera, the Xrillian's body disappeared. It wasn't the same as it had looked in the shower room, but it was still troubling.

They tried to reassure one another that it had died, that even if it had gone back into the cube, the alien artifact had been completely destroyed and with it any last traces of the alien intruder. But it was hard. He'd spent so much time questioning reality that sometimes Ianto wondered if the conversation was even real, or if it would devolve into another nightmare that he'd wake up from, cold and sweating.

The team asked them what had happened, but Ianto knew he would never tell them what he had seen. He didn't know what Jack had experienced, but suspected he would be equally uncomfortable sharing it. Even Gwen understood, however, that the Xrillian had somehow knocked the others unconscious before turning to Jack and Ianto and trapping them in a particularly brutal vision in which, as Ianto had already let slip, everyone had died. As far as Ianto was concerned, they didn't need to know more.

Eventually Jack stopped them and sent everyone home. He stepped into his office and then stepped right back out.

"Can I clean it up tomorrow?" he asked Ianto with a lopsided grin.

Ianto stood, found his coat, and nodded. "Absolutely. Or the next day. Let's go home." He almost bit his tongue when he realized what he'd said, but the smile on Jack's face must have meant his slip was appreciated

"I couldn't agree more."

They shut down the Hub, and with one last look around, left behind the scene of so many nightmares. Ianto hoped there would be no more, and that they could move forward after all they had seen and done. They were safe and alive and together.

It was finally over.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Except for a short epilogue I hope to post by the end of the week!
> 
> I really hope that was clear and lived up to expectations. Any questions, feel free to ask, though there might be a bit more explanation in the last chapter. I do hope you enjoyed this scene. I know it was violent, but it was more about the tension between the reality/unreality of it and I hope that came across.
> 
> I still have not listened to Outbreak (and I have been shockingly good about avoiding major spoilers!) so if there is any resemblance whatsoever, it's one of those strange space-time coincidences and I hope you still enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading this story!


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

14.

Ianto woke with a gasp, eyes snapping open to flit wildly around the room. But it was still dark, he was still in bed, and Jack was still lying next to him. They were both alive and everything was all right. It was nothing but a bad dream—and a strange one at that.

Ianto sighed and shifted in his place, debating whether to get up, use the loo, or maybe make some tea. He was exhausted but restless, too anxious to go back to sleep after a long week of nightmares. He and Jack had left the Hub and picked up a late dinner along with a bottle of scotch, and had shared several glasses as they'd avoided talking about what had happened at the Hub in any detail. Given it had been several hours since Ianto's last dose of painkillers, the scotch had numbed the pain of his wound enough for a mutual groping session that had resulted in them both falling asleep almost immediately.

Now Ianto was awake, his side hurt, and his thoughts were all over the place, trying to figure out what it meant. If it meant anything at all. Maybe it didn't. They'd been manipulated by a vengeful psychic alien, after all. Maybe Ianto wasn't afraid of being hurt, or of Jack leaving, because it wasn't that serious between them, the alien had only made him think so, but then why…

"Stop thinking so loud," Jack mumbled beside him, then shifted to wrap his arms around Ianto's back, pulling him close. "It's over."

"I know," Ianto replied softly. "Can't sleep, though."

"Because you're thinking too much," Jack said. Then he paused. "Or did you have another dream?"

"I did," Ianto admitted.

Jack pressed a kiss to his neck. "I'm sorry. Was it bad?"

"Not really." Ianto laughed. "It was actually more bizarre than anything. Too much alcohol and painkillers, maybe."

Jack still sounded serious. "Last time I was here you pushed me out of bed. What did you dream about this time?"

Ianto rolled over so he was facing Jack, just able to make out his concerned face in the light filtering through the window. He rested one hand under his head; Jack reached for the other. "I dreamed we were chasing a wooly mammoth through Bute Park," he said, and was pleased when Jack grinned. It was ridiculous image, after all. "Gwen wanted to save it, but Tosh and Owen kept going on about how we couldn't put a wooly mammoth in the Cardiff Zoo without someone pointing out they'd gone extinct thousands of years ago."

"Naturally," said Jack. "We'd keep it as a playmate for Myfanwy. So where was I?"

"You were trying to wrangle it somehow, and It stepped on you," Ianto replied. "Crushed you instantly. Only instead of reviving, all these gold sparkles floated out of your body, and then you disappeared. Or sort of disintegrated, anyway, into gold dust that floated away on the wind."

"Ah." Jack nodded. "And you?"

"I woke up," Ianto replied. He wasn't about to tell Jack how terrifying it had been to not only watch him be killed by a prehistoric beast, but to then disappear without a trace. It seemed that his fears weren't laid completely to rest after all, no matter how many times Jack reassured him. He wondered if Jack felt the same about his own fears, but would never ask.

Jack was silent, gazing at their entwined hands. The simple connection was enough to calm Ianto, and he felt his eyes begin to drift shut, content to fall asleep with Jack holding tight. But apparently his bedmate did not feel the same.

"I'm sorry," Jack said softly, prompting Ianto to open his eyes in surprise, wondering what Jack was apologizing for. "I'm sorry you're still dreaming about me leaving."

"I dreamed that you died," Ianto pointed out, although he knew well enough what his subconscious was still trying to tell him. "Which happens, so it's not unusual for me to dream about it."

"But then I disappeared," Jack said. "I know I've said it already, but I promise I won't leave. I won't disappear on you."

"We already talked about this," Ianto replied. "And I thought we agreed to not talk about it again for a very long time?" Jack raised an eyebrow, and Ianto sighed, knowing there was no way they couldn't, not after everything that had happened since their last conversation only a few hours ago.

"Look, you have nothing to apologize for," Ianto said. "You were being manipulated by the Xrillian. I know you're not going to deliberately pack up and leave, not without saying goodbye."

"You're still dreaming about it," Jack pointed out. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Of course I am. I'll probably be having nightmares about my nightmares for weeks," he replied dryly, before realizing it was the wrong thing to say. Jack withdrew his hand and turned away with a sad sigh, and Ianto had to reach out to stop him, first by grabbing his arm, then pulling him flush against his chest and holding him tight so he didn't try to move away.

"I don't mean that as a bad thing," he said, then backtracked again, feeling incredibly inarticulate. "I mean, I don't particularly enjoy having bad dreams, but I understand that this happened and I'll be dreaming about, like I have about every other traumatic event in my life."

"Most of which have to do with Torchwood," Jack murmured.

"Most of which have to do with Torchwood," Ianto agreed. "It's not easy, that's for sure, but I wouldn't give it up, I'm _not_ giving it up, so don't ask me to, because—"

Jack twisted around and stopped him with a kiss. "As much as I want to see you safe and happy, I think today has proven I could never ask you to leave Torchwood. I don't want to lose you."

Ianto breathed out and pulled Jack close again, settling chest to back once more. "Well, good. Because I'm staying."

"Me too," Jack replied. When Ianto did not reply, he sounded frustrated. "I mean that. What do I have to do to make you believe me?"

"I don't disbelieve you," Ianto said. "And I know you won't willingly go, I know that now, but this job…you can't predict it. Anything could happen."

"Like a wooly mammoth turning me into golden sparkles?" Jack asked, though Ianto heard a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Or a purple cube invading our dreams," Ianto pointed out. "You worry about my safety, but I worry about yours too, you know. You may come back from death, but this is Torchwood. There are so many other things that could go wrong—aliens, the Rift, technology we can't even begin to understand." _The Doctor,_ he thought to himself, but did not say it outloud. "It's a dangerous roulette spin every day."

He felt Jack laughing against him and frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Ianto, that roulette spin you described? That's how I feel all the time, about you."

"Oh." He thought about it, trying not to jump to the wrong conclusions. "About the visions the Xrillian showed you or—"

"No, about your life." Jack replied. "Because those same things could happen to you. Every day you put your life on the line, and every day I am terrified I'm going to lose you. Forever."

They shared a common fear, that Torchwood would destroy the other in some terrible, final way. He again wondered what Jack's final nightmare had been.

"Is that what you saw?" he asked quietly, almost hoping Jack didn't hear him. He shouldn't ask, it was none of his business, and if Jack asked him in return he would have to answer. Jack, however, did not answer, and in spite of his own reluctance, Ianto found himself offering.

"I saw Gwen," he started, drawing strength from Jack's presence. "She pulled out her gun and shot everyone, even you. She said she wanted me out of the way, which was when I knew it wasn't really her. So I took out my gun, and the Xrillian revealed itself. "

Jack shifted next to him, held his arms tighter, but did not say anything. "When you revived, you thought I was dead, even though I was standing right there. So I shot the Xrillian to try and snap you out of it, only it didn't die right away. You were still stuck."

"I thought you were dead," Jack murmured.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said. "I'm all right, I'm right here."

"I know," Jack replied. "But for a moment, I really believed you were dead. Twice, actually. Gwen had a gun and tried to convince me to be with her. She shot you, it was awful…only it wasn't really you, because then you stood up and stopped her. And then…"

He felt Jack take a shaky breath before turning over to face him, as if speaking face to face were easier for him. Jack ran a hand along his jaw, down his neck, coming to rest on Ianto's hip before continuing.

"And then you were someone I didn't know, cold and cruel. You said I only ever hurt people. You _wanted_ me to kill you. It was like being in Hell again." That was news to Ianto. Jack had told him about his experience with Gwen, but Ianto had not asked nor ever expected to know what else had happened to Jack in Hell so many weeks ago. He wondered how long the experience would haunt the other man.

Jack offered a shaky smile. "And then you shot me. When I came to, you were dead. The Xrillian said I shot you, but I knew I hadn't, that I could never do that. It said it was still my fault, and it was right."

Ianto's closed his eyes; if they were doing this, he may as well go all the way. "You did shoot me," he said softly. "In my vision. You thought I was the alien and you shot me."

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered. He started to move away, but Ianto opened his eyes, reached out and held him tight. "I don't know how you're even looking at me right now."

"How are you looking at me?" Ianto asked. "Jack, it wasn't real. I believed what you said, that you wouldn't shoot me. That's how I broke out of the vision as I was laying on the floor bleeding out. But you were still stuck in yours. You were running around your office packing."

"Because I thought you were dead," Jack said. "I couldn't stay, not when you were gone and it was my fault."

Ianto sighed as he realized the scope of the Xrillian's mental manipulation, how well it had read then and how completely it had almost deceived and destroyed them. "So it made both of our fears come true, multiple times. I shot you, you shot me… I died, you left."

"It was smart," Jack murmured. "It knew how to play us, that's for sure."

"It didn't know everything," Ianto said. "I knew when it had gone too far."

"With Gwen?" asked Jack, and Ianto nodded.

"And with you. I knew that she would never kill you, and that you would never kill me."

Jack smiled and kissed him. "Because you believed. In me."

Ianto thought about it and realized Jack was right. He believed in Jack, in so many ways but one. Why didn't he believe in Jack's feelings for him? After all that had happened, hadn't Jack proved he cared? With his words _and_ his actions? Wasn't that enough? Feeling suddenly lighter, Ianto reached out and pulled Jack close for another kiss.

"What was that for?" asked Jack, and this time Ianto grinned.

"For believing," he said. Jack looked confused. "When you say you won't leave. I believe you." It felt wonderful to say it.

"Finally!" Jack exclaimed, but he was smiling. "It only took a psychopathic alien from the future to convince you?"

"It's Torchwood," Ianto shrugged, and they laughed, until Ianto asked the question that was still bothering him. Only it came out as more of a statement.

"I hope you believe me, when I say the same. That I'm not in this to use you. I'm not going to betray you. I like this...us."

"But—" Jack started.

"No buts," Ianto replied, then rolled his eyes when Jack sniggered. "Stop worrying about it, about me. Trust that I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do. If I can do it, so can you. You are older and wiser than me, after all."

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed, and Ianto laughed.

"It's true, though." Ianto snuggled—yes, he would consider it snuggling and didn't care—against Jack, fully intending to fall asleep again. The rhythmic rise and fall of Jack's chest lulled him into peaceful relaxation, but his mind refused to stop turning circles around the events of the day.

"Jack?" he finally asked, and Jack grunted an affirmative.

"Do you think it's really gone?" Ianto asked. There were so many things he still wondered about the Xrillian, aside from what it had done to his relationship with Jack. Maybe if he could put to rest some of his uncertainties, he'd be able to sleep.

Jack was quiet for long enough that Ianto knew he was considering his answer carefully. Which meant it wasn't good.

"I hope so," Jack replied. "You shot it and we threw the cube into the incinerator. It should be dead."

"Unless it someone escaped another way," Ianto murmured, trying not to imagine the possibilities. Alien energy floating around Cardiff, looking for a new home. Or finding one somewhere in the bowels of the Hub, where advanced technology Ianto hadn't even begun to categorize yet alone understand still waited to be studied.

"I don't want to even think about it," Jack said, but from the look on his face, he clearly was. "I'm just glad none of it was real, that it didn't actually hurt the others."

"It could have killed them," Ianto replied. "But it didn't. It was only about us."

"It would have hurt us to have killed our team," Jack pointed out, and Ianto nodded.

"Of course. But it was too fixated on us. I don't think it was sane. Too many years alone in the dark." He'd glimpsed it briefly in the Xrillian's mind as it had lay dying.

Jack kissed him, a short peck of comfort. "It's gone. It didn't win. They others are all right, and we will be too."

"I'll type it up tomorrow and leave as many flags in the system that I can, in case anything remotely similar ever happens—" Ianto started, but Jack shook his head and stopped him.

"Not tomorrow you won't," he said. "And not the next day. You need to rest, let yourself heal."

"I need to be sure this doesn't happen again," Ianto said.

"It can wait."

"But what if—"

"It can wait," Jack insisted. "If something survived, it won't have the strength to return tomorrow, or the next day. It took forty-five years for the Xrillian to escape the cube this time. You can wait a week to hand in your report and set up the flags." He grinned. "Trust me, your boss doesn't mind."

"My boss—" Ianto tried again, but Jack huffed, lay down, and closed his eyes.

"Your boss wants you to go back to sleep now."

Ianto sighed. "All right." If he didn't fall asleep quickly, he'd get up and make some tea. In the meantime, he settled against Jack and tried not to work on his report in his head. He tried not to think about any possibility of the alien surviving, and he definitely tried not to dwell on his feelings for Jack and if things were going to change between them now that so much was out in the open.

"Ianto?" Jack whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I can't sleep now."

"Neither can I. Any ideas?"

He felt the rumble of Jack's laughter in his chest. "Always, but I don't want to overtire you."

"Can't sleep either, remember? Might as well enjoy my insomnia."

Jack did not answer, which surprised Ianto. Apparently Jack wasn't angling for late-night sex.

"What are you thinking about?" Ianto asked quietly.

"It thought you were my mate," Jack answered after a moment. Ianto did not respond; what could he say? It was the one thing he refused to think about, that the alien had targeted him because it thought he was Jack's mate. What bothered him wasn't the fact that he'd been put in danger because of it—not the first time, after all—but rather the term itself. It was a loaded word for them, implying a relationship they'd never discussed or defined.

"You were dragged into this because of me," Jack continued. "You almost died because of me."

Ianto blew out a breath in frustration and sat up. He turned the light on because he was certainly not going back to sleep now. "Jack, I work for Torchwood. I was a part of this because I found it, because it read my mind and saw what it could do with it. If it had been Tosh or Gwen who'd found the cube, it would have found something else to fixate on."

Jack did not sit up, but placed his hands behind his head. He looked troubled. "Does it bother you that it identified you that way?" he asked.

"I don't care what an alien thinks of me," Ianto scoffed, though he knew perfectly well in this instance he did.

"You know, there are a lot of different ways to define a mate," Jack said after a moment. "People hang out with their mates on weekends, as their friends. We're more than that. Animals mate to propagate the species." He paused. "That's definitely not us."

Ianto rolled his eyes. Jack continued.

"Some people consider their spouse to be their mate, and many aliens use the term to refer to the one they've pledged to spend their life with, like marriage only more permanent. Their soulmate." Jack sat up then, edged closer to Ianto. "When you think about it, a mate can be all of those things. It's someone you care about above all others. More than a sexual partner, but a romantic partner as well. Someone you want to be with more than anyone, someone you're afraid of losing more than anything."

Jack took Ianto's hand and held on as if drawing the strength to continue. "It didn't pick you because you were there, because you touched it, because you were easy. It picked you because you _are_ all those things for me." He paused and offered Ianto a crooked smile. "If you want to be, of course."

Ianto closed his eyes to gather his thoughts, in order to articulate some sort of response. But he had none. He was too stunned. He had never imagined he would hear such words from Jack, because he'd accepted that Jack simply wasn't one to say them. Their relationship wasn't like that. It had sprung from a mutual attraction and need for comfort, nothing romantic. They'd slept together for a few months before Jack had disappeared, slowly building trust and perhaps affection until the team had betrayed Jack in one brutal blow and Jack had left them, because why would he stay?

That Jack had returned and asked him on a date had been almost too much to process in one night, but he had. He'd been so relieved to see Jack that even though he'd wanted to remain angry, he'd made his peace and moved on. It'd been like starting over, getting to know one another, regaining their faith in each other, growing closer. Ianto knew he'd been developing feelings for Jack and sometimes he even thought Jack cared about him as more than a casual shag, but he'd never thought Jack would refer to him as anything more, as his partner. Jack didn't like labels, and that was all right, because they'd been through hell several times together, chased aliens together, and slept together with an occasional night out for dinner and a movie. There was no label for what they had.

Just like that, though, there was. It was more. Officially.

"You never fail to surprise me, you know," Ianto replied. "You swagger around, all bluster and bravado, action and adventure with your 51st century pheromones, but deep down you're as traditional and romantic as anyone I've known. You pretend you don't care when you do, and long for a normal life more than any of us. It's remarkable, really."

Jack nodded, though he seemed confused. "Okay, but is that a yes?"

Ianto glanced down at his hands. "Of course it's a yes, do you even have to ask?"

"Well, it was a rather vague sort of yes," Jack teased. "And you did say something about not proposing anytime soon." He turned away and reached toward the nightstand. Ianto felt his stomach drop…no, he wouldn't…but Jack turned back with an envelope, nothing more. He grinned. "Boy, that got you. Here. Open it and reassure yourself."

Ianto took the envelope and opened it slowly, his heart racing. It was a printed reservation for a long weekend away at a posh spa in Bath.

"I thought about heading north, maybe camping, but it's a bit cold for that, and well." He pulled a face. "Let's not even go there. Thought about London too, but I wanted it to be about us, not about the past."

"Which probably ruled out the rest of the country for you," Ianto murmured, and was glad when Jack feigned insult but laughed anyway.

"Actually, no, it did not," Jack said. "I told you before, you are one of very few…and I've haven't spent much time there at all. Tracked down a hitchhiking alien once, that's it."

"So why now?" asked Ianto. "And why Bath?"

"It's not too far, but far enough," Jack admitted. "Not that I didn't want to book a week in Rome or Madrid, but we'd have to really plan for that. And it seemed…right. Nice, romantic. Things to do, but plenty of opportunities to stay in as well."

Ianto leaned over and kissed him. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"It's in two weeks. I mentioned it to Tosh and she was okay with it—squealed quite loud, actually— but I haven't told the others yet. And we'll have to put UNIT on alert since two of us will be gone."

"I'm looking forward to it," Ianto replied. He was incredibly touched by the gesture, more than he could possibly express.

"Me too," said Jack. He yawned. "Think we can go back to sleep now?"

"I think so," Ianto replied. He set the envelope on his own bedside table, smiling to himself before he turned off the light. Before he'd even finished settling back onto his pillow, Jack had wrapped himself around Ianto and was holding tight. He kissed the back of Ianto's neck, whispered something in his ear. Ianto smiled and let his eyes slip closed as Jack's words warmed his heart.

They'd be all right. The nightmare was over, and perhaps other dreams might come true now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! Thank you so much for reading this story, and for the many comments. I may not have replied to them all, but I have really enjoyed reading your thoughts about what was going on throughout this story. It really turned out nothing like I thought it would when I first had this image of Ianto being stabbed by Jack/Not Jack in the shower. I didn't think it would end up nearly so long and complicated, with so much introspection regarding Jack, Ianto, and their relationship. But a revengeful alien playing on their fears and perceptions about reality was too good an opportunity to pass up, especially for cliffhangers.
> 
> Many thanks to Taamar for her input and advice. Thank her for vetoing my original final paragraph. Then read some of her stories, they are fantastic!
> 
> Thank you again! Time for something new!


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